


The Things in Life Beautiful and Strange

by bluebox_dragon



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, M/M, Minor Character Death, Unreliable Narrator, just because he doesnt know whats up, moral of the story: listen to the crazy old lady, this is the fairy au that no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:27:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23370187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebox_dragon/pseuds/bluebox_dragon
Summary: The mid-morning sunlight is streaming through the passenger window, and reflecting a rainbow over the bridge of TK’s nose and spilling down his cheeks — it almost looks like it's TK’s skin that’s refracting the colors, but Carlos knows better than that.It’s absolutely stunning, but the bright sunlight is giving Carlos a headache.---“So,” She says, “When did you meet a fae?”“Um, what?” Carlos says, bewildered by the comment.“You are sick because you don’t believe, you saw and couldn’t process. Your body is suffering because your mind couldn’t comprehend, you should-,” Her rambling sentence is cut off by his phone ringing. And honestly, he’s glad. He has no clue where that had been going, and he doesn’t want to know.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Comments: 106
Kudos: 197





	1. A Beautiful Firefighter

**Author's Note:**

> As per usual, absolutely unedited!
> 
> I have no idea how long this is going to end up, but I'm guessing at least 6 chapters or so.

Everyone knows that firefighters are a little weird. They run headfirst into danger, and laugh about it later. But, for the most part, they are good at their jobs and lots of people owe their lives to firefighters.

Carlos has heard plenty of stories about how odd firefighters can be, and honestly, beyond work, he avoids them. Which is why he kind of hates himself for how enthralling he finds the firefighter standing next to him.

It’s stupid, honestly. Carlos should have better control over himself, not be standing at a job thinking about how pretty the firefighter beside him is. But the guy has an almost ethereal beauty, and he can’t help himself. Carlos mentally slaps himself, work is not the place to be thinking with his dick.

When the firefighter walks away, back to the truck, the back of his jacket says TK Strand. Weird name, Carlos thinks and wonders what it stands for.

He shakes his head, hard. This is not the time, or place. He walks back to his patrol car, there’s paperwork back at the station calling his name.

———

He almost forgets about the pretty firefighter by the time Friday rolls around. He’s just finished his work week, and he has the next three days off, so he doesn’t even think before accepting Michelle’s invitation to the bar.

It’s more crowded than normal, and it takes twice the usual amount of time to order a drink and find a high top for he and Michelle to share. When Carlos finally sits down, he scans the bar, hoping to find Michelle.

He finds her, talking to a group of people sitting at a few tables pulled together. He has no clue who they are, might be some of her EMT friends. Then he notices familiar cheekbones, and he can’t help that he sits up straighter, trying to get a better look at the pretty firefighter, TK. His name is TK, Carlos reminds himself.

He moves before he even thinks about it, leaving his drink at the table. He absently thinks about the $5 he just wasted by leaving the drink unattended, but finds that he doesn’t care that much.

Carlos walks up next to TK, who’s now sitting alone, the rest of his group having migrated to the dance floor. TK is even prettier in regular clothes, he thinks. Looking at him almost hurts his eyes.

“Wanna dance?” Carlos asks. He’s taking a risk here, doesn’t even know if TK likes boys. The open shirt gives him a pretty good idea, but honestly you never know these days.

TK looks over his shoulder, visibly checks Carlos out. “Sure.” He flashes his teeth in a smile, and Carlos shivers, it feels predatory somehow. But within seconds he forgets the feeling, and takes TK’s hand when it’s offered, leads him out to the dance floor.

“I don’t know how to line dance.” TK says.

“Just follow my lead.” Carlos says, privately thinks that TK doesn’t need to know how, he’s graceful enough that anything he does looks purposeful, looks beautiful.

Dancing lasts for all of five minutes, before TK makes eye contact and licks his lips, tilts his head towards the bathroom and smirks. Carlos can’t say no, doesn’t even want to say no in the first place.

TK pulls him into the last stall in the bathroom, doesn’t even get the door shut before pressing their mouths together. Carlos has always thought that describing how peoples mouths taste is stupid, usually people just taste like spit, or alcohol if that’s involved; but TK tastes like fruit, and it’s as addicting as it is weird.

“You got a condom?” TK pants, pulling away just long enough to look disappointed when Carlos shakes his head.

“This wasn’t exactly my plan for the night.” Carlos says, runs his hand underneath TK’s shirt, and then unbuttons it halfway.

TK smirks again, “Bummer.” He nips at Carlos’ neck, and Carlos shivers.

In the next second, Carlos is being pushed against the wall. He gasps, not even sure how it happened, hadn’t even seen TK move. Not to mention the 2 inches and 30lbs he has on the other man. A small spark of panic springs up in his chest, and is soothed before he can even process it.

TK must have noticed something, because he pulls away, takes his teeth off of Carlos’ neck.

“You good?” TK asks, and he looks genuinely concerned. Carlos nods, moves back in to kiss TK again, but TK pulls further away.

“Actually, this is a bad idea.” TK says, and starts buttoning his shirt back up, adjusts his pants. He presses one more kiss to the corner of Carlos’ mouth and unlocks the stall. He slips out before Carlos can collect his thoughts.

TK leaves Carlos in the bathroom stall, totally confused and feeling tipsy. Carlos hadn’t even started his drink, but he doesn’t even consider that, just leaves the bathroom and leaves the bar. He calls an uber, he can pick up his car in the morning.

———

Carlos goes home to visit his mom on Sunday. He no longer goes to church, hasn’t in a while, but he still goes to the post church lunches that his mom hosts every week, so long as he isn’t working. He doesn’t really want to be there, he’d spent all of Saturday hungover, despite not drinking that much. He’d woken up feeling slightly sick this morning as well, so he thinks it may be a mild flu, not a hangover.

There are already cars in the driveway and in front of the lawn when he arrives, so he parks in front of the neighbors. Ms. Mason had babysat him for most of his childhood, she wouldn’t mind him parking in front of her house.

All of his sisters are already in the kitchen when Carlos walks into the house, he’s the last one home, again.

“You look shit.” His oldest sister says. She hops off the counter where she’d been perched and grabs his chin, turns his head to inspect him.

“It’s either the longest hangover in the world, or the flu.” He says, and María lets go of him, and makes a face.

“You running a fever?” She asks. He shakes his head, he hasn’t had a fever at all which is why he thinks he may just have a horrid hangover, even if he doesn’t remember drinking much, if at all. It was a weird night.

Before María can make another comment, their mother makes an appearance, carrying a crockpot. She smiles, and puts the crockpot down on the counter to give him a hug. After releasing him, she too takes his face in her hands and clucks her tongue.

“You didn’t need to come if you weren’t feeling well, mijo.” She says, and presses her hand against his forehead.

“Do I really look that bad?” Carlos says, pulling away from his mom, “I honestly feel fine.”

His family all give him looks like they don’t believe him, but they seem content to let the subject drop, as his mom starts discussing who else is coming to lunch. Carlos tunes it all out, in favor of putting the kettle on the stove to make coffee.

He only tunes back in when he hears his mom mention Ms. Mason.

“Is she coming?” He asks. He hadn’t seen her in a few years, and he misses the old lady, even if she is slightly crazy. It’s part of her charm.

“She’s bringing that cake of hers,” His mom says, “I can’t remember what she calls it.”

“Fairy Cake.” Carlos supplies.

As long as he can remember, Ms. Mason has been obsessed with fairies, ‘the fae’, as she called them. When he was young, and spent hours at her place after school, she would regale him with tales of the fae, teach him how to spot them, how to communicate with them.

He had never seen a fairy, despite how hard he had tried when he was little. Eventually, he had stopped believing in the stories she told him, had stopped trying. He hadn’t even thought about the fairy stories for years now.

“Now remember, if any of you make fun of her fairy stories, you are not too old for me to wack you.” His mom says, holding a wooden spoon threateningly at all of her children. “She is old, and those stories make her happy. You understand me?”

Carlos nods his compliance. He wouldn’t dream of saying anything rude to Ms. Mason, the woman had cared for him after school for years, when his mom was working, and his sisters were old enough to go off on their own. She was like an extra grandmother to him.

The whistle of the kettle startles him, and he pulls it off the stove. Before he can grab the pour over coffee maker, his mom presses a teabag into his hand.

“I can’t control how much coffee you drink outside of my house, but please, have some tea instead.” She says. The debate over how much coffee Carlos should drink in a week had been going on since high school, and while she no longer had control over what he drank, she was always trying to get him to cut down on his precious caffeine.

He takes the teabag, decides to make his mom happy. Maybe it will help settle his stomach a little bit. He watches the tea diffuse. The swirling patterns of the black tea are beautiful, graceful even. He hates himself a little bit when it reminds him of the graceful, beautiful firefighter he almost hooked up with. God, he’s pathetic, they didn’t even actually have sex. The headache from yesterday makes a reappearance as he watches the tea.

He’s pulled out his thoughts by a knock on the front door.

“I got it.” Carlos says, making his way towards the front door, waving off his sister when she makes to go get the door.

As expected, it’s Ms. Mason on the other side of the door, she pulls him into a too tight hug the second the door is out of the way.

“Oh, you look so grown up!” She coos at him, “I feel like the last time I saw you, you were about yea high.” Ms. Mason holds her hand at waist level.

“I haven’t been that small for years now, Ms. Mason.” Carlos says. He can’t help the broad smile on his face, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her.

When they get back into the kitchen, all of Carlos’ sisters have been cleared out. Probably sent to go set the table in the back yard. His mom is still there, and she gives Ms. Mason a hug after taking the fairy cake.

Carlos sips at his tea while the two women catch up, it seems like Ms. Mason hasn’t seen anybody from his family in a while.

“Mami, you need me to do anything for lunch?” Carlos asks after a minute. Usually he would have been put to work the second he walked in the door, he wonders if he actually looks that terrible.

“It’s almost ready, you just keep Ms. Mason here entertained while I finish setting up outside.” She says, and picks up the crockpot before making her way out to the back deck.

When he turns back to look at Ms. Mason, she’s staring at him, smiling.

“So,” She says, “When did you meet a fae?”

“Um, what?” Carlos says, bewildered by the comment.

“You are sick because you don’t believe, you saw and couldn’t process. Your body is suffering because your mind couldn’t comprehend, you should-,” Her rambling sentence is cut off by his phone ringing. And honestly, he’s glad. He has no clue where that had been going, and he doesn’t want to know.

The caller ID says it’s his work.

“Officer Reyes.” He greets.

He listens to the voice on the other end, and thanks the officer a little too enthusiastically before hanging up.

By the time he’s slipping his phone back into his pocket, his mom has rejoined them in the kitchen.

“Who was that?” She asks.

“It was work, Mami.” He says, “They need me to come in.”

It’s a lie, but she doesn’t need to know that. The officer had been calling to tell him that Michelle had violated her restraining order again, that he needed to come pick her up.

“You need to learn how to say no to them.” She says, but kisses him on the cheek, and starts shooing him out the door.

“Bye, Mami. Bye Ms. Mason.” He calls from the front porch, already unlocking his car from across the street..

By the time he reaches his car, he’s forgotten about the strange comment from Ms. Mason.

———

Despite his better judgement, Carlos gets TK’s phone number from Michelle. Says that its payment for bailing her out of jail yet again. He spends 10 minutes on Monday morning trying to decide if it would be weird to text.

Ultimately he decides it’s weird, but not weird enough to stop him from doing it. His mom always told him to go after what he wanted, so he types out a slightly risky text.

**This is Carlos, from the other night. Any possibility of a do over?**

He freaks out the second he sends it. It’s definitely way too forward. He tips over from where he’s sitting on his couch, so that he can bury a groan into the throw pillow. He’s so stupid, TK is never going to want to respond to that message.

When his phone buzzes not even two minutes later, he spends a moment debating if he should look at the message. Responding quickly could be a good or bad sign. He flips his phone over and lets out a sigh of relief as he reads the short message.

**I have a shift later, but im free now**

Carlos grins at his phone, he starts typing out his response when another message from TK pops up

**I dont have a car yet, could u pick me up?**

Carlos texts back saying he can, and puts the address TK gives him into google maps. They don’t actually live that far away from each other. A pleasant surprise, considering how huge Austin is.

When he pulls up in front of TK’s house, he pulls his phone out to text that he’s here. He doesn’t even get a chance to hit send before the front door is opening and TK bounds down the steps towards Carlos’ car.

“Nice car.” TK says in lieu of greeting once he sits down in the passenger side, running his hands along the leather seats. Carlos pulls out of TK’s driveway, and back onto the street.

“She’s my baby,” Carlos replies, stroking the steering wheel. He loves this car more than anything.

“She’s almost as cute as her owner.” TK says. Carlos pulls his eyes off the road, even though he knows it’s a bad idea, and looks over at TK.

The mid-morning sunlight is streaming through the passenger window, and reflecting a rainbow over the bridge of TK’s nose and spilling down his cheeks — it almost looks like it's TK’s skin that’s refracting the colors, but Carlos knows better than that.

It’s absolutely stunning, but the bright sunlight is giving Carlos a headache, and he pulls his gaze back to the traffic in front of him. When he glances over to TK again, the angle of the sun has changed and the rainbow is gone.

They don’t make it to Carlos’ door before they have hands all over each other. Carlos unlocks his front door with one hand, while the other holds the back of TK’s neck. Carlos really hopes that his neighbors can’t see where TK’s hands are currently roaming.

The second he gets the door open, they stumble in together, TK’s back hitting the wall with more force than Carlos had intended, but judging from the happy gasp TK lets out, he doesn’t think its a problem.

As Carlos works on the buttons of TK’s shirt, TK takes control of the situation, pressing Carlos into the wall on the other side of the door, it reminds Carlos of something, but he can’t remember.

They both pause for a second as TK strips his own shirt off. Once TK is free of the garment, Carlos pushes him backwards onto the couch with more force than actually necessary, but TK seems to like it rough. He slips his own shirt off before straddling TK on the couch.

They hit the floor, and they don’t get back up until they both finish.

“Not even gonna catch your breath?” Carlos asks. He’s laying back on the couch, while TK goes around collecting his belongings.

“I have a shift,” TK says, he doesn’t even look apologetic as he makes an excuse about the traffic.

TK is out the door before Carlos has caught his breath, the “Text me,” he calls out being met with the slamming of his door. Thats what he gets for going the hookup route.

His head starts pounding when he stands up to locate his clothing. It only gets worse when he bends down to grab his pants, and he has to sit back down on the couch, bite his tongue against the wave of nausea that comes out of nowhere.

Carlos feels worse than he had on Saturday, he’d really thought he’d kicked whatever bug it is that he’d picked up, but apparently not. He should probably text TK and warn him that he’s sick, in case he’s contagious.

He grounds himself as best he can, and stands up to a wave of vertigo. The dizziness goes away as fast as it comes on, and once his vision clears, he makes his way to his bedroom, snagging his phone off the coffee table.

He passes out almost the second that he hits his pillow.


	2. Dream State

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still completely unedited.
> 
> This is where things start going completely into AU land.

_There’s a young boy sitting in the middle of a grove of trees, he’s alone. There’s something in the trees, and they know he’s there._

_Ash to his right, oak to his left. He sits against the thorn tree._

_He sits still, holds his breath every time the wind moves the trees. It’s not the wind moving the trees. He doesn’t want them to know he’s here. He doesn’t want to be here._

_Oak to his right, thorn to his left. He’s laying underneath the ash tree._

_The moon is full and bright, lights up the grove like sunlight. It doesn’t make a difference in the unending darkness of the trees surrounding him, so he keeps his gaze upwards, towards the moon._

_He stands in the middle of the grove, watches the tree line, watches the shadows grow._

_Thorn behind him, ash in front. Oak reaches out, he reaches back-_

————-

Carlos startles awake, his hand reaching out towards nothing. He breath is caught somewhere high in his chest, as his heart tries to beat out of his body. At least the headache is gone.

This isn’t the first time he’s woken up like this over the past few nights, and he doesn’t think its going to be the last either. He’s been cycling through the same two nightmares, ones he hasn’t had since he was a child. It’s fairly pathetic, he thinks, that the dreams that kept him awake as a child still hold the same power over him as a grown ass adult.

He swings his legs over the side of his bed and sits up. Checking the time on his phone tells him that he’s only gotten a couple hours of sleep since last being woken by a nightmare. He has to work in the morning, and really should go back to sleep, but at this point sleep is less restful that being awake. So Carlos starts his day at 3am.

He stumbles into the kitchen and flips on a light, shielding his eyes from the light with one hand and turning on the stove with the other. If he can’t get energy naturally, caffeine is going to have to do. His mother would be so disappointed.

Making coffee is an adventure in muscle memory, so he’s glad that he keeps his coffee supplies in the same place everyday, because he’s not sure he has a single coherent thought during the whole process. When he takes the first sip, he discovers that he’d used the deathwish coffee he’d received as a gag gift from his sister last Christmas. He thinks that three or four cups of the stuff may be successful in keeping him awake during his shift today.

Once properly caffeinated, Carlos retrieves his laptop from the living room, since he now has an extra three hours in his day, he may as well catch up on some Netflix.

The first show that pops up in his suggested feed when he opens Netflix is a procedural drama about firefighters. Carlos thinks this is pretty solid proof that his computer was spying on his personal life, because speaking of firefighters, TK had texted the day before, said that if Carlos ever wanted to fuck again, he was down.

Carlos was absolutely interested, in the fucking part, but also in TK in general. He knows that the cardinal rule of hook-ups is don’t catch feelings, but it’s likely way too late for that now. He is so going to get hurt.

Carlos will blame it on sleep deprivation later, but when the idea of inviting TK for dinner pops into his head, he pulls out his phone and types out an invitation before logic can catch up to emotions.

**You free tonite? I get off shift just before midnight.**

TK doesn’t respond right away, which is unusual. TK usually texts back within minutes, even when he’s on shift. It takes Carlos a solid 10 minutes of worrying that TK no longer wants anything to do with him to realize that it’s 4:30 in the morning, and TK is probably still asleep.

He gets a response two hours later, while he’s prepping food for dinner, so that all he has to do tonight is throw it all in the oven.

**Ill be there there around 12:30**

TK sends a winky face emoji after the initial message, and Carlos hates the way it makes him smile like a fool.

———-

The fish is in the oven, the bread is warm, the champagne is cold. There is absolutely no reason for Carlos to be nervous, everything is perfect. The only part of the equation that isn’t in line is TK, who hasn’t arrived yet.

Carlos smooths out his dress shirt, and paces from the kitchen to the window by his couch. The window doesn’t face the street, but if he angles himself just right, he can see down to the end of his driveway. It’s the third time he’s checked in as many minutes, and just like the last times, there are no cars, and no TK to be seen.

Despite his vigilance in watching the window, the knock at the door takes him by surprise.

“Hey,” He begins when he pulls the door open.

Anything else he was going to say is stopped by TK’s mouth meeting his. The kiss is forceful, and TK grins at him, says, “You like it a little rough, huh?” Before ripping Carlos’ shirt open.

Despite how hot Carlos finds the whole situation, theres food in the kitchen thats going to get cold. So he cups TK’s face, pushes him back until he can meet TK’s eyes.

“Take a deep breath, tiger” He says.

TK cuts him off, “But you’re the one who called me over.” And then moves to kiss him again.

“Yeah,” He says, pulls TK away from for a second time, and then glances behind TK to the kitchen.

TK glances back at the table, and then back to Carlos, slightly breathless. When their eyes meet again, TK’s gaze is stony, literally. It doesn’t last even a second, but Carlos would swear on the Bible that instead of iris’ and pupils, there were two gemstones, the same green as TK’s eyes, set into his face.

Carlos takes a step back, and blinks hard. The rational part of his mind kicks in right about then, it was probably a weird reflection from the lamp, or the streetlights outside. It was nothing.

He steps around TK, and pulls the chair out from the table for him. “I know it seems like a lot of work,” TK sits, pulls at the neck of his sweatshirt. Carlos pushes forward, “Don’t worry, it wasn’t.”

He pours a glass of champagne, and holds it out for TK, who grimaces and shakes his head.

“None for me, thanks.” TK says.

“Sorry, should’ve asked,” Carlos replies. He feels stupid for not asking about alcohol before, he can’t remember, but he doesn’t think TK had been drinking at the bar that first night.

TK sighs, and then looks up at Carlos for the first time since he’s sat down.

“This feels like,” TK gestures at the table, the bones in his hand visible through pearlescent skin, “Like a whole thing…”

Carlos isn’t sure he processes the second part of TK’s sentence.

Actually, he’s not sure he’s processing anything. He looks down at TK’s hand again, but his eyes are met with smooth skin in a regular shade of pink. He’s 29, thats well within the range for a schizophrenic break.

“… Not looking for, for this.” TK finishes a sentence that Carlos hadn’t heard a word of.

“I’m sorry,” He starts, but TK stands up, effectively cutting him off. TK gets halfway to the door before he stops, and turns halfway to face Carlos.

“I’m sorry.” TK says, “For the misunderstanding.” He turns slowly, before opening the door with a once again translucent hand, and when the light from the streetlamp hits his face, the lights refracts into rainbows against his cheekbone.

Carlos stands in his kitchen for an eternity, silent except his pulse pounding in his ears. When he remembers how to move his body, he falls into his bed fully dressed. He doesn’t think going to bed in shoes is important in the long run, if he’s having a mental breakdown.

———

_He’s kneeling on the ground, as if praying. His face is turned up towards the sun, but his eyes are shut against the light. There’s water being poured over his face, spilling down his forehead, mixing with tears on his cheeks. It’s cold as it pools over his closed eyes._

_The water runs into his mouth, and he goes to move his head, but the hand on his neck stops the motion before it even starts._

_“It’s almost over,” He trusts the voice, so he stays still, lets the water soak into the collar of his shirt._

_The hand on his neck is removed, and he tips his head forward, finally. Gentle hands cup his face, thumbs wiping the drops of water out of his eyes._

_“Open your eyes, Carlos.” The voice says, “You can see now.”_

_He opens his eyes, blinks against the sunlight. He’s looking for someone, and it doesn’t take long to find her._

_She’s kneeling in front of him smiling warmly, and he smiles back at her._

———

“What the fuck did you do to me?” Carlos demands, the second the door is opened. He pushes his way into the house. This isn’t a conversation to be had outside.

“Watch your language with me, young man. Now, I don’t know what you are talking about.” Is the response.

“Oh fuck that, and yes. You do.” Carlos says, wheels around to face her. “When I was a kid, you did things to me.”

He gets a reproachful look, and it takes him a second to realize what his wording made it sounds like.

“Not like that. Jesus. I meant with your whole fairy bullshit.” Carlos says.

“You wouldn’t be here if you actually thought it was ‘bullshit’, now would you?” Ms. Mason says, and then gestures towards the kitchen, “Would you like some tea?”

Carlos doesn’t answer, but that doesn’t deter Ms. Mason, who moves into the kitchen and puts the kettle on the stove anyway. Carlos moves slowly into the kitchen behind her, he just wants answers, but Ms. Mason seems intent on drawing this out. So he sits heavily at her kitchen table and waits for the tea, even if tea is the last thing he wants to think about.

“So. Tell me what prompted this visit. What did you see?” She asks, sounding way too interested.

“Who says I saw anything?” He’s being petulant, and he knows it. She glares at him until he relents.

“It was dreams, actually.” Not entirely a lie, not the entire truth either, “Dreams about things you did when I was little. You left me alone in the woods, in the middle of the night.”

“Mm, a grove with oak, thorn, and ash trees.” She says, and hands him a mug. “A good place to meet the fairfolk.”

“So you don’t deny leaving a child alone in the forest?” Carlos says, anger rising again.

“Oh, you weren’t alone.” She smiles, “You were with my friends.”

“So, you don’t see the problem with-,” Carlos breaks off with a sigh, this wasn’t getting him anywhere. He takes a sip of his tea, tries to calm the anger bubbling in his chest.

“What about that whole baptism thing you had going on.” He asks instead.

“Marigold water, its helps open your eyes to the other corners of the world.” Ms. Mason says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “When poured on the eyes, it washes away what blinds you.”

Carlos takes another sip of his tea, he can’t force out the questions he really has.

“I don’t think that you’re here because of the dreams, Carlos.” Ms. Mason says, she puts her hand over Carlos’ on the table. Carlos pulls his hand away.

“If I were to have seen something, that I can’t explain…” He trails off.

“I may be able to explain.”

“Yeah, you may be able to explain.” He says, he wants to just tell her what he saw, tell her why he’s here.

“But I can only do that if you tell me what you saw, Carlos.” Ms. Mason puts her hand back on his. This time, he lets her keep it there.

“A friend of mine,” Carlos says, trying to think of words to describe how TK’s skin had changed, “He looked normal at first. But, his…” He stops again.

Ms. Mason makes a ‘go on’ gesture at him.

“I could see through his skin. Like, all the way to the bone.” Now that he’s started, he can’t stop, “It wasn’t even like his skin was clear, it was like his skin was made of fuckin’,” He fumbles around for the right word, but can’t find it.

“Like he was made of gemstone?” Ms. Mason asks gently.

“Yeah, like he’s made of gemstone.” Carlos repeats. “What does that even mean?”

“It means, my dear,” Ms. Mason says, “That you have found yourself a fairy.”

Carlos sits with that statement swirling around in his head. It sounds absolutely insane, putting ‘TK’ and ‘fairy’ in the same sentence, but Carlos doesn’t want to entertain the other possibilities for explaining what he’d seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think, I absolutely love getting feedback!!


	3. Police Station

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unedited!
> 
> This is the last chapter that will borrow any plot from canon, from now on we are going full tilt into crazyland.

Carlos thinks that this may possibly be the slowest shift he’s ever had, he’s too preoccupied to truly pay attention to anything he’s done today, not that anything has happened in the first place.

The most interesting thing that Carlos sees all day is the man who stands in front of him at the coffee shop during his lunch break. Carlos doesn’t pay the man any attention at first, not until the man turns around and asks Carlos to save his place in line, as he’s forgotten his wallet in the car. Carlos looks up, goes to say “Of course,” as an automatic response.

His words die in his throat when his eyes hit the man’s face. His skin is birch bark, his eyes set into knots in the wood. Carlos thinks that his police training is the only thing that keeps him from reacting visibly, and after a second he nods and manages to push the words out of his mouth.

He spends the rest of his lunch break sipping at his coffee and trying to convince himself that everything Ms. Mason had told him was true, that he wasn’t having a complete psychotic break. He has himself reasonably convinced by the time he sits back down at his desk. 

———-

There’s only twenty minutes left on his shift when his partner, McCoy, corners him next to the break room coffee machine. 

“You remember how I covered for you being late, like three months ago?” McCoy says. 

This is never a good way for a conversation to start.

“Because I had the flu? And I bought you coffee for two days to make up for it. Doesn’t count anymore.” Carlos replies.

“Just hear me out, okay?” McCoy says, and pushes a file towards Carlos. “I’m trying to make it to my daughters soccer game. This won’t take you long, the kid’s not getting booked.”

Carlos grabs the file from McCoy against his better judgement; now McCoy knows that the kid excuse works. McCoy thanks him profusely as he practically runs out of the break room. 

He sighs, and flips open the file. Hopefully he can get this done and still clock out on time. It’s a pretty basic case: three person bar fight, two drunk and the third not, no one is talking. Carlos has the pleasure of dealing with the idiot who managed to start a bar fight sober.

Then he reads the guys name.

“Seriously?” TK says, when Carlos slams the bag of TK’s belongings down on the desk. 

TK is holding an icepack against one crystalline eye. The skin around his eye is swollen, and colored like rubies and sapphires in contrast to the smooth opal the rest of his face is made of. Carlos isn’t sure he’s ever going to get used to the fact that TK looks like he was carved from precious gems.

“Austin is a small town, TK.” Carlos says, theres a slightly irrational anger building in his chest. He may have been distracted when TK had stormed out of his place the other night, but he hadn’t forgotten about it.

“Or should I say Tyler Kennedy?”

TK groans when Carlos says his full name. Carlos thinks it may be unfair of him to pull out info he found in a police file, but also finds that he’s not above being that level of petty.

“Bummer about being arrested, people might find out your real name. Which marks the first actual thing I’ve learned about you.” Or, technically the first non-supernatural (or possibly hallucinated) thing Carlos has learned about him.

“Isn’t you processing me like a conflict of interest or something?” TK asks. He looks pissed off, and Carlos has to agree; if TK was being processed, this would be a conflict of interest. 

“The good news is neither of your new friends wants to talk about that little scuffle tonight,” He grabs TK’s cuffed wrists, and starts working on the lock, “And since you blew a 0.0, we aren’t even giving you drunk and disorderly. You’re free to go.” He nods towards the door.

TK rubs at his wrists, then looks through the bag of his stuff. “What’s the bad news.” He asks, pulling out his wallet.

“The bad news is that means you did this with a clear head.” He’s frustrated now, that TK doesn’t seem to understand the seriousness of the situation. 

“I’m not trying to be your boyfriend, or even your friend if you’re not into it. But you should talk to someone about why you felt compelled to do something so suicidal.” The last part of his sentence trails off slightly, when TK looks up at him, he looks like a kicked puppy. 

It’s only then that Carlos notices the dried blood on the corner of TK’s mouth. It looks like normal blood, nothing beautiful like TK’s skin, and Carlos has to think for a moment about why he finds that surprising. 

“You got a little crud there, by the way.” He says, placing the tissue box in front of TK, who doesn’t look thankful that Carlos has pointed this out. 

Carlos really means to turn back to his work, but instead he finds himself watching as TK misses the blood, even when Carlos tries to tell him where it is. 

Finally, Carlos has had enough of watching TK miss the spot, and he grabs a tissue, says, “Just let me.” 

It’s a strangely intimate moment, Carlos’ hand on TK’s mouth. It’s only broken when TK whispers thanks, and breaks the eye contact. 

“I’m sorry I went crazy on you the other night.” TK says, voice soft and leaning in towards Carlos, like he’s about to share a terrible secret.

“I’m a cop, I’m used to crazy.” Carlos replies, which comes out slightly harsher than he’d intended, but frankly he’s still a bit upset about that dinner. 

“Look,” TK says, “I just went through a really bad break up. Like, nuclear bad. And then I relapsed.” 

“You mean with me?”

“No.” 

Carlos looks up, just as TK looks down at his lap. Carlos almost doesn’t want to hear what comes next, doesn’t want TK to share whatever he’s about to say. 

“I mean with substances.” TK’s voice breaks slightly, in the middle of the sentence. 

Carlos hates that he made TK feel like he needed to tell him something so personal. He knows he pushes, he’s a cop, can’t really stop himself anymore. He wants to apologize for making TK share something that personal, but instead what comes out is an apology for the champagne, making this about himself, as usual. He’s about to apologize again when TK cuts him off.

“No, it’s fine. It’s fine, okay?” TK sounds like he’s trying to convince himself instead of Carlos.

“I mean, ever since I’ve gotten here, it’s just gray.” TK says, pushes out to the words, looks like he’s desperately trying to get Carlos to understand what he’s saying, “And I just feel numb, all the time. I guess I just…” He looks up at Carlos again, and Carlos wants to take away everything in the world that has ever hurt TK Strand, as unrealistic as that is. 

“I guess I just wanted to feel something.” TK finishes his confession. 

Carlos has no idea how to respond, doesn’t think, ‘I’m sorry,’ or ‘I wish I could help’ are appropriate. 

“Judging by that lip, I’d say mission accomplished.” He goes with in the end, and its worth it, to see TK’s lip quirk upward.

“You really busting my balls right now?” TK asks. He’s standing now, moving towards the exit of the building.

“Yeah, I suppose I am.” Carlos smirks, can’t really help it, now that the seriousness has melted into levity. He checks his watch, “My shift ends in 5 minutes. You need a ride home?”

TK nods, and then smiles at Carlos. “Thanks.” He says quietly.

————-

Carlos grabs another icepack for TK’s eye before they leave the station, the bruising, as beautiful as it is on the outside, has got to be painful. 

They settle into Carlos’ car, TK curling up in the passenger seat with the icepack pressed against his cheekbone. Carlos almost wants to bring up the whole fairy thing, but he can’t find a good way to start the conversation, so instead he just starts the car and pulls out of the station.

There’s no conversation while Carlos drives. TK has already said what he needed to say, and Carlos can’t say what he wants to say. The silence isn’t comfortable, but there’s nothing either can do about it at this point. 

The silence gets worse when Carlos is stopped at a traffic light, they are in the turn lane, and honestly, he doesn’t think they will get through the intersection even if the light turns green, not with the line of traffic in front of them.

Since the car is stopped, Carlos turns towards the passenger seat, he intention had been to ask if TK wanted to stop and get food before being dropped off, but instead Carlos finds himself staring at TK for the millionth time in the last week. 

TK has lowered the icepack down to his lap, leaving his cheekbone exposed as he watches the traffic. The headlights from the car behind them are streaming through the back windshield, the light strikes TK’s face at just the right angle, so that the deep blues, reds and purples of TK’s gemstone bruise are glowing. It’s stunning, and Carlos lets himself look for just a second longer than he should. 

“You’re staring at me.” TK says without turning his head away from the car in front of them. 

Carlos can’t come up with a good excuse, and he may be panicking slightly at being found out.

“The light makes your bruise look pretty.” Now that just might be the stupidest sentence Carlos has ever heard come out of his own mouth. He groans, and readjusts he hands on the steering wheel, the light has turned green.

“What the fuck does that mean.” TK says, his voice much more urgent than seemed necessary.

“Uh, well.” Carlos tries to come up with an explanation that isn’t ‘I think you may be a fairy, because my crazy babysitter told me so’.

“Carlos. Answer me. What are you trying to say.” TK demands, and honestly this makes Carlos feel more secure in his fairy theory, because TK seems to be alluding to something specific. 

“You’re a fairy, right?” Carlos says, and goddamn, that is not the way he intended to phrase it. 

“Pull the car over.” TK says, his entire body has gone stiff, and he’s leaning into the door, as far away from Carlos as possible. 

“What, I-,” Carlos tries to say something.

“Pull the car over right now, or I will jump out.” TK says, his voice is lined with steel, and Carlos has no doubts that he will.

He pulls into an empty gas station. TK is unbuckled and stepping out of the car before Carlos makes a full stop. Carlos follows, hands fumbling to put the car in park and pull the keys out of the ignition. 

“TK, I can explain, I’m-,” His sentence is cut off when TK shoves him against the car, moving faster than Carlos can follow.

“Who are you with?” TK snarls, his forearm pressed heavy against Carlos’ collarbone. 

“What?” That was probably the last thing Carlos had been expecting.

“Who. Are. You. With?” TK enunciates each word, and it sounds every bit like the threat that Carlos is sure it’s meant to be.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Carlos yelps. 

“The queen. Are you with the queen?” TK sounds more frantic now.

“I literally have no clue what the actual fuck you are talking about,” Carlos almost yells, “And there’s literally not a queen, unless you’re British. You’re not British, your file says American citizen.” Carlos is rambling a little bit, but then again, there’s a guy who may or may not have superpowers threatening him right now. 

TK takes some of his bodyweight off of Carlos, and gives him a strange look.

“You have no clue what’s going on, do you?” TK asks, much calmer than he’d been just seconds before. He pushes himself off of Carlos, and takes a step back.

“Until yesterday, I thought I was hallucinating.” Carlos says, then realizes that TK hasn’t actually confirmed the whole fairy thing, “I’m not hallucinating, am I?” 

“No.” TK says bluntly, “You’re not hallucinating.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” Carlos lets out a breath he had only partially known he was holding.

“How do you not know anything about fairies?” TK asks, “Most people with the sight are at least partially involved with fae shit.” 

“I’ve ‘had the sight’ for like 10 days, haven’t exactly had time to get involved in fairy politics or whatever you’re talking about.” Carlos says, waving his hands at TK to emphasize his point.

TK gives him a look like a confused puppy.

“You don’t magically get the sight, Carlos. You’re either born with it, or you never see a fairy in your life. There’s no in between.”

Well then, Carlos thinks, this doesn’t add up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, I love hearing from you guys so much!!


	4. Martie's Diner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos takes a second to compose himself, and not throttle TK for being the least helpful (non)human on earth. He pours himself another cup of coffee, because at this rate he’s not going to sleep until tomorrow night (tonight? He’s too tired to think it over), TK holds his cup out for a refill as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who still hasn't edited? It's me!
> 
> This is where we start getting into some of the fairy lore! I've borrowed from multiple cultures, and mashed it into something that suits the needs of my story, so no, the fairy lore is not accurate outside of my story.

Carlos almost says no when TK suggests they find a 24 hour diner and talk.

“You wanna know whats going on, I wanna know if I can trust you.” TK says, “Now, drive us to a diner.”

So Carlos does, he’s kind of terrible at saying no to TK Strand.

They end up at a tiny, local hole in the wall. Carlos had arrested one of the owners once, for less than peaceful protesting, but they were a nice couple. Carlos had found himself coming back here when he didn’t want to go to sleep after a shift, over the years.

The parking lot is empty when they get there, which makes sense. It’s after midnight, and the only people out are those running to or from something. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” TK says, fixing a glare at Carlos as the step out of the car. 

“No?” Carlos says, more a question than a statement, he has no clue whats got TK’s feathers ruffled this time. 

“You say you’ve only had the sight for like a week, and yet you frequent fae diners?” TK says.

“I literally have no clue what you’re talking about, I arrested one of the owners once, that’s how I found this place.” 

TK puts a hand under his chin, and pushes his face upwards, “Look at the sign, Carlos. What do you see?”

Scrawled over the simple sign reading Martie’s Diner, in a language that looked almost like english, were two words, obviously hand painted in bright red. Carlos couldn’t believe he’d never noticed before. 

“Says ‘friþsum inn’, safe place.” TK translates, “Means it’s neutral territory.”

“Neutral? Did I step into something here?” Carlos asks, because all of this is turning into so much more than Carlos had asked for. Actually, giving it a second thought, Carlos hadn’t asked for any of this. This is why hook ups are a bad idea, he’s going to delete Grindr when he gets a chance.

“Um, why don’t we go inside, I’ll explain once we get some food.” TK says, holding the door open for Carlos. 

Martie is behind the counter when they walk in, and Carlos does a visible double take when he sees her, the long ponytail of silver hair that she always wears has been replaced with a literal waterfall down her back that flows to nowhere. 

Carlos is too busy blatantly staring at her hair, wondering how he never noticed in the three years he’d been frequenting this diner, to notice that TK has gone completely still beside him. He doesn’t notice anything is wrong until Martie speaks, anger evident in her voice.

“What are your intentions with the boy, elf.” She snarls the last world, like a derogative.

“No intentions, and no claims laid.” TK says, hands above his shoulders in surrender, “If you claim him, I’ll back off.”

Carlos looks between them, in confusion and horror. His hand goes down to his belt on instinct, but he finds nothing there. Damn, he wishes he hadn’t changed before leaving the station.

“Uh, I’m not a possession? What the hell is going on, TK?” Carlos asks, stepping to the side so he can get a better look at the situation. Can take the cop out of the uniform… Carlos thinks thats how the phrase goes, at least. 

“I just found out he has the sight, and I didn’t know he was under protection, I swear to god.” TK says, and then slowly moves one hand to gesture to Carlos, “Please tell her that, Carlos.”

“What does that even mean, TK?” Carlos hisses, he is so absolutely confused. “Also, nobody is claiming me, that sounds like some weird fetish shit, and I don’t consent.” 

“Carlos. Please tell her that I’m not forcing you to be here, and that you know whats going on.” TK says, sounding urgent.

“I don’t know whats going on!” Carlos says, probably louder than necessary “You said you would explain this fairy shit, and now a woman I’ve known for years is threatening you, what the fuck is going on?”

“I have no claim on him,” Martie says, still ignoring Carlos in favor of glaring at TK, “I didn’t know he was sighted.” 

“Neither did he, not until a couple days ago.” TK says, “Thats what I’m trying to figure out.”

Martie seems to accept this answer, and relaxes her stance. TK doesn’t relax in the slightest, and Carlos watches the tension in TK’s shoulder ratchet up even more when Martie reaches underneath the counter. But she comes back up with menus in her hand, not whatever weapon TK had apparently been expecting. 

She tosses the two menus at TK, but doesn’t move from behind the counter, still glaring. TK doesn’t shift from his defensive stance until Carlos wraps a hand around his bicep and yanks him into a booth at the back of the diner.

“What the fuck was that?” Carlos says, the second they sit down.

“She was just making sure I wasn’t taking advantage of you.” TK says.

“Yeah, I got that part. What is claiming? And why would either of you have a claim on me?” Carlos gesticulates with his menu, almost hitting TK.

“Claiming is a form of protection. Humans can’t enter fairy spaces without a guardian, it just means that the fairy promises to bring the human back to the surface at the end of their visit, with no lasting damage.” TK explains. He’s obviously feeling much more at ease than just minutes before, as he browses the pancake selection while talking.

“I’ve been coming here for years, I’ve never been claimed before.” Carlos points out.

“This isn’t fairy space, it’s a shitty 24 hour diner in Austin that happens to be run by a naiad.” TK says.

“Then what the fuck is a fairy space?” Carlos demands.

“You have a very dirty mouth, you know that right?” TK says, winking with his non-bruised eye, it doesn’t look very sexy.

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

“Can’t we get food before the interrogation, Officer?” TK asks, and pouts at Carlos. 

Carlos doesn’t dignify that with an answer, but opens his menu. He already knows what he’s getting, but doing something normal like looking at a menu feels important right now, amongst the chaos of the new world he’s discovered. 

They both stay mostly silent until their food arrives. It’s a much more comfortable silence than earlier, even with all of the questions hanging in the air. TK tears into his pancakes like he hasn’t eaten in days, not even looking up at Carlos until he’s finished half the stack of disgustingly sweet cheesecake flavored pancakes. 

“Okay, why don’t we start on your questions now.” TK says. “You want more coffee?”

“Uh, yeah, please.” Carlos hands his mug over to TK. “So, first question: fairy spaces, what are those.”

“Pocket dimensions, kinda. They exist both in the world, and not at the same time, that’s why there are so many myths about time being different in fairyland. The courts have control of most of them, but some are neutral ground.” TK says.

“Courts? And what the hell is this about neutral ground again?” The more questions TK answers, the more questions Carlos has.

TK checks his phone, and then sighs. “I’ve got a shift at 8:00, but I’ve got a change of clothes and can shower there, so we have like five hours for you to ask whatever questions you want.”

“Yeah, I’ll drop you off.” Carlos agrees distractedly, “Back to the courts.”

“Yeah, so there are two courts. Well, technically six, but you only need to care about two of them.” TK pauses to sip at his coffee, he makes a face and grabs another packet of sugar to join the six already in his cup. 

“Elaborate.”

“I’m getting there!” TK stirs his coffee and takes another sip, “So, uh, basically there’s the seelie court, and the unseelie court. Historically have some major differences in philosophy.”

“What types of differences?” Carlos asks. TK is turning out to be a terrible source of information.

“The major differences are in how humans are viewed. Seelie-aligned fairies tend to be more friendly towards humans, have no problem existing in the human world. Unseelie fairies tend to be more… malicious.” TK says.

“I’m assuming you’re seelie.” Carlos says. He doesn’t frame it as a question.

“Uh, no, actually. I’m a solitary.” TK says. 

“Ok, please assume I’m completely stupid. Explain everything, what is a solitary?” Carlos says, getting slightly frustrated, TK keeps bringing up words that mean nothing to Carlos, and expecting him to understand.

“Sorry,” TK says, “I’ve never had to explain this stuff to anyone before. Um, it means that I haven’t sworn allegiance to either court.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Carlos asks, it seems pretty clear that the seelie court would be the prime choice to ‘swear allegiance’ to, even if that sounded tragically old fashioned. 

“It’s a long story, but basically my dad got us kicked out of the fae world when I was a baby…” TK says. His voice trails upward, making his sentence almost a question.

Carlos goes to reply to that confession, but is interrupted by Martie coming over with another pot of coffee. She sets it down on the table, and then hovers for a second. It’s obvious she had been eavesdropping on their conversation.

“You the Strand boy?” She says finally.

“Who’s asking.” TK is still sitting, but Carlos watches his muscles coil, ready to attack if necessary. 

“My wife and I fought at the revolt.” She says, with a pointed look at TK, “Fought for your father.”

“Oh.” TK’s entire body relaxes, “Thank you, for your service to the king.” TK says, he looks shocked, like that was the last thing he was expecting Martie to say. She waves his thanks off with a smile.

“We will always be loyal to the true seelie court.” Martie says, and it’s obvious this has more meaning than Carlos can give to it. “Now, you boys want anymore food?” 

TK says, ‘Yes please,’ at the same time Carlos says, ‘No! I want some answers!’

“I will get you some more pancakes, bearn. You boys talk.” Martie laughs, walking away with TK’s empty plate.

“What the fuck was that?” Carlos asks, for the millionth time.

“She called me kid, old english.” TK says, answering the question that Carlos was least concerned with.

Carlos takes a second to compose himself, and not throttle TK for being the least helpful (non)human on earth. He pours himself another cup of coffee, because at this rate he’s not going to sleep until tomorrow night (tonight? He’s too tired to think it over), TK holds his cup out for a refill as well. 

“Ok, here are the things I want answers to, in the order I want the answers.” Carlos says, once he has things sorted out in his head, “One, why were you kicked out, and why does that tie into the revolt Martie talked about. Two, how many types of fairies are there, and how many am I likely to encounter. Three, why couldn’t I see any of this before I met you?”

“Well, the answer to number three is I don’t know.” TK says.

“Humor me, and start with number one.”

“Ok, ok. So, the courts that I was explaining earlier, they run sort of like monarchies. There’s a separate monarch for the seelie and unseelie courts. My dad used to be the seelie king. From what I’ve heard, he was pretty good, but he was super progressive with human-fae interactions. Pissed off a bunch of fairies in both courts.” TK pauses and looks up at Carlos, likely to gauge if he was still listening.

Carlos nods, to show that he’s still following along.

“The major problem ended up being me, my mom is human, right? A lot of folks saw it as an insult, that the seelie king laid with a human. I was born in seelie territory, which was the final straw for those who opposed my dad. They attacked, hours after I was born. Apparently it was an epic battle, but my dad focused more on protecting me and my mom, rather than protecting his throne. The unseelie queen took his throne, and took the seelie court by force.” 

“Wow, that’s intense.” Carlos says, and then mentally kicks himself. He really needs to stop saying stupid things in front of cute boys. 

“It was.” Martie says, coming up to the table with another plate of pancakes and more coffee. “You may have been a baby, but I remember the battle like it was yesterday. I have lived millennia, and never seen that level of bloodshed, especially not over a child.”

She sets the plate down in front of TK, and then hands him a slip of paper. “Give that to your father.”

“What is it?” TK asks, unfolding the paper. It looks blank to Carlos, and from the way TK is frowning at it, Carlos doesn’t think he sees anything either.

“Not for your eyes, bearn.” Martie says, “Just give it to your father.” 

TK grumbles a little, but its good natured, and he slips the paper into the front pocket of his jeans. He doesn’t seem as concerned about apparently blank paper holding messages only for certain people to see as Carlos is. 

When Martie makes her way back into kitchen, TK digs into second plate of pancakes. Carlos isn’t sure how TK is eating so much, he’s smaller than Carlos, but has managed to put away nearly twice as much food without slowing down.

“You ready to move on to question two?” Carlos asks, once TK finishes his plate. The sun has risen, which means they’re running out of time.

“What was question two?” TK asks, then raises his hands in surrender when Carlos glares, “Just kidding! I remember.”

TK pulls his phone out of his pocket, scrolls through for a second, before finding whatever he had been looking for.

“Ok, in the Austin area, there are approximately five thousand fairfolk, according to my dad. So, I’d say you’ll run into them occasionally, but it won’t be like, all the time.” TK says, “And there are like, a fuck ton of types of fairies. I’d say looking it up on wiki or something would probably be your best bet.” 

“Helpful.” 

“Ok fine, there are some that you’re more likely to see, so I’ll give you the rundown on those.” TK says.

Carlos makes a ‘go on’ gesture, and pours himself a fourth cup of coffee. He’s so going to regret the coffee in a few hours, but he also has to get through a ten hour shift today.

“So, the most common are like, elves, nature spirits, pixies, brownies. Oh, and trolls. Lots of trolls in Texas.” TK pours himself more coffee. Carlos waits for a second, for TK to resume talking. Then he realizes that TK thought that was a reasonable explanation.

“I’m gonna need more detail than that.” He says.

TK groans, and then chugs the coffee in his hand.

“Elves: look most human, can do magic, can fuck humans. Brownies: used to live in people’s houses and do chores, now they have this whole mattress superstore thing going on. Cannot fuck humans. Pixies: mischievous little shits, completely taken over investment banking, will try to fuck humans. Nature spirits: probably what you will encounter most, theres like five million different types, and they all pass for human pretty well, but cannot fuck humans.” TK grins, like he had done a good job explaining.

“That was still utterly unhelpful.” Carlos says, but decides to drop the subject. He’s not entirely sure why TK thought he cared about which species can have sex with humans.

An alarm goes off on TK’s phone, and it startles both of them. TK fumbles to turn the alarm off, and then looks at Carlos apologetically.

“I know you have more questions, but I really need to get to work and get ready.” TK says, then his whole face brightens, “Wait, actually come with me, maybe my dad or one of the others can answer some of your questions!”

“Others?” Carlos asks.

“Yeah, Paul’s actually the only human in our main group, he’s like you though.” TK says, nonchalantly, like it isn’t a big deal that theres a firehouse almost entirely made up of fae.

TK starts gathering his stuff, and stacking the dishes at the end of the table for Martie. 

“C’mon, Carlos.” TK says, he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. Over-caffeinated, if Carlos had to warrant a guess. 

Carlos stands up and pulls out his wallet, then pauses as somethings occurs to him.

“TK, you asked me earlier if I was with the queen.” He says slowly, “You meant the unseelie queen, right?” The word unseelie feels foreign in his mouth.

TK nods, and looks down at the ground. “Yeah, uh, the guys I picked a fight with earlier, they were unseelie, had the tattoos of the queensguard. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t with them.”

“You picked a fight with guys who probably want you dead?” Carlos hisses, voice lowered. He’d already been worried about TK’s headspace thinking it was a normal fight, but now this?

“I told you, I’m kinda fucked up, Carlos.” TK bites out. Then his expression melts, features going soft, “Please don’t tell my dad about it.”

Carlos nods, even if he has no intention of keeping that promise. He thinks the bruising, which has now spread purple and blue down nearly half of TK’s face, will alert TK’s dad before Carlos even has a chance to open his mouth.

Carlos sets two twenties down on the table and pulls his keys out of his pocket.

“Alright, let’s get you to work.” He says.

“And get you some answers.” TK responds. His smile is bright, and Carlos’ stomach fills with butterflies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!!
> 
> Also, should i make a tumblr? I want to interact more with people, but I haven't run a tumblr since i was 14 so idk whats up really.


	5. Meet the Parent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unedited!
> 
> Updates may be slowing down because I work in healthcare, and obviously things are getting pretty insane, so I may have less free time to write.

It’s probably extremely irresponsible for Carlos to be driving, considering how exhausted he is, but TK needs to get to work. 

TK is in the passenger seat, with the visor mirror pulled down so that he can watch himself poke at the angry bruise covering the left half of his face. Carlos watches out of the corner of his eye as TK runs a finger over his cheekbone, hissing in discomfort the whole time.

“If it hurts, don’t touch it.” Carlos says. He feels like a parent.

TK sticks his tongue out, and continues to poke at the bruise.

“I don’t think they make a concealer heavy enough to cover this.” TK says. “Can we stop at CVS or something?”

“No. Deal with the consequences of your actions.” Carlos knows he gets pissy when he’s tired, and as much as he’d tried to keep that from coming through, it isn’t working. Frustration is climbing in his throat.

TK sits up straighter in his seat and closes the visor none too gently. “What the fuck does that mean, Carlos.” He sounds about as pissed as Carlos feels. But as grouchy as Carlos is, he doesn’t want to fight with TK.

“It means,” He sighs, “That neither of us has slept in what, 36 hours? I’m exhausted and a little pissed off, it has nothing to do with you.”

TK rubs a hand down the non-bruised side of his face, and nods. “Sorry, I sometimes forget that other people have feelings when I’m exhausted.”

“It’s fine.” He says, and means it. Whatever anger Carlos had been holding onto, he’s too tired to keep up, so he lets it go. 

The fire station comes into view as Carlos rounds the corner, and TK resumes poking at the bruise. At this point, Carlos figures he’s either a masochist or he’s anxious about the bruise.

The giant doors to the main bay of the fire station are open when they pull up, the firetrucks parked neatly where they belong. Below the sign designating the building as Engine 126, are hand painted words in what Carlos now knows is Old English, ‘friþsum inn’, same as Martie’s diner. He knows the words had probably been there much longer than he’d been able to see them, but the change still feels new. 

He’s still staring at the words when he unbuckles his seatbelt and slips out of his car, following TK. He nearly runs into TK’s back, the man stopped short in the entrance to the station.

“Shit…” TK mumbles. 

Carlos follows TK’s gaze to the stairwell, where an extremely angry looking Owen Strand is descending. Carlos shouldn’t be surprised by the fact that the Captain is just as pretty as his son is, his skin is highlighted by different gems than TK, but the striking effect is the same. 

“Dad, I can explain.” TK is saying, when Carlos drags his eyes away from the small brown gems embedded along Captain Strands hairline, blending seamlessly with his hair.

“You are gone all night no texts, no calls.” Captain Strand says, he’s obviously trying to maintain a professional appearance at work, but the anger and worry is clear, “TK, did you…” 

“No!” TK hisses.

“Ok, then explain the bruise, and the police escort.” Captain Strand says, dragging Carlos into the argument that he’d really rather stay out of.

“I’m off duty, sir.” He interjects.

Captain Strand swings around to face Carlos, “That does not make me feel better.” 

“Dad, dad listen.” TK says, talking over his dad, who’s moved onto listing all of the ways TK could have been hurt or dead. “We need to talk,” He gestures between himself and Carlos, “All three of us.”

Captain Strand’s eyes go wide, and he turns back to Carlos, “If there’s an STD involved, you guys can figure that out yourselves.” He hisses. 

TK swears creatively, “No. Jesus, dad.” 

“TK said you could explain some, uh, fairy stuff to me.” Carlos blurts out. There’s a fairly ironic joke there, a gay man asking a straight man about fairy stuff. 

Captain Strand stiffens, moves subtly so that he’s between TK and Carlos, “I didn’t know you had the sight, Officer Reyes.”

TK pushes out from behind his dad, “That would be why we’re here, Carlos didn’t have the sight until very recently.” 

“Impossible.”

“Yeah, apparently not.” TK says, and then walks away deeper into the firehouse, “We should probably move this inside.”

Carlos follows, uncomfortably aware of Captain Strand’s eyes on his back. He hates being the anomaly, being stared at. Being gay and Mexican in Texas has made his skin thick, but the way he’s being watched now is different. He feels like a science experiment and a criminal rolled into one. 

TK is in the kitchen with half a granola bar in his mouth by the time Carlos and Captain Strand catch up to him. Carlos lets the Captain pass him into the kitchen, he’s perfectly happy to stand on the sidelines for this. 

“One of you fill me in on what’s going on.” Captain Strand demands, then he looks at his son, who has the other half of the granola bar in his mouth now, “Actually, Officer Reyes please tell me what’s going on.” 

Carlos has no idea where to start, “Call me Carlos.” Damnit. Not the point here. “And, uh, I’m actually probably the worst person to ask, I have literally no clue what’s happening. TK thought maybe you would know?”

TK nods along at what Carlos says, still chewing his mouthful of granola bar. 

“So, what you’re saying is that Carlos suddenly develops the sight, with no discernible reasoning, and you want me to figure it out?” Captain Strand says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Exactly!” TK says.

The Captain gives TK a thoroughly unimpressed look that Carlos is inclined to agree with. “Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Captain Strand.” Carlos says.

“Please, call me Owen.” Captain Strand says, then turns to face his son, “Go get ready for the shift, we will be talking later.” The last part of the sentence is said in a lowered voice, and while Carlos can guess what the conversation would be about, he knows it’s none of his business. 

TK gives his dad a mock salute, and grabs another granola bar from a basket near the impressively large coffee machine sitting on the counter. 

“I make a mean cappuccino.” Captain Strand says, once TK has disappeared up the stairs.

Carlos just stares at him blankly, not sure where that sentence is leading.

“Would you like one?” The Captain asks after a minute, obviously realizing that Carlos is too tired and stressed to pick up on what he was saying.

“Yes please, sir.” Carlos says. He knows that the Captain had told him to call him Owen, but honestly the man outranked him, and he was fucking his son. And the man may or may not be fairy royalty, being respectful was probably wise.

“Seriously son, just call me Owen. We belong to different departments, I’m not your superior.” The Cap— Owen says. 

Carlos nods his assent, even if he probably won’t follow through. Theres a quiet tapping sound, somewhere in the kitchen that is doing nothing for the exhaustion induced anxiety welling in Carlos’ chest. He shifts uncomfortably on the stool he had claimed, the tapping stops. 

Even if the kitchen is quiet, the rest of the firehouse is not. There are firefighters moving through their workdays, cleaning and moving equipment in highly rehearsed movements. Most of the firefighters that he can see appear to be human, then the kid standing on the ladder truck (Carlos doesn’t know what his name is, has only ever heard him called Probie) turns towards the kitchen, showing off shimmering skin and pointed ears straight out of a fantasy novel. 

Owen must catch him staring because he laughs lightly, says, “That’s Mateo, he’s a pixie.”

Carlos nods, not entirely sure what to do with that information, so he just tucks it away. He goes back to watching the comings and goings of the firehouse, he gaze falling on the shimmery firefighter more often than not. 

Owen pushes a small cup into Carlos’ hands, breaking his train of thought. It smells delicious, and even if Carlos is already over-caffeinated, he sips at it. The tapping resumes, and it’s only after he looks down at his cappuccino that he realizes he’s been tapping his foot against the floor. He picks his foot up off the floor, sets it on the stool’s footrest.

“So, I may not know you, but I do know my son, and I’m guessing he hasn’t done a very good job explaining things to you?” Owen asks, and Carlos whips his head up.

“Uh, no sir. He gave me a rundown, but…”

“But he focused on the absolute wrong parts?” Owen fills in.

“Yeah.” Carlos says, he feels guilty about admitting he doesn’t know much, he’s not sure about the reasoning behind that one either.

Owen moves past him to the stairs, and motions for Carlos to follow, “We can talk in my office.”

Carlos picks up his cup and follows, the promise of actual answers is alluring. He stumbles a little on the stairs, and Owen turns around to give him a concerned look. God, this is embarrassing, he pulls one all nighter, and he can’t even keep his feet underneath him.

“Haven’t pulled an all nighter since college, guess I’m getting old.” He says to Owen, half explanation, half joke. It’s a pretty pathetic joke.

“How old are you?” Owen says, pulling open the door to his office. His tone is casual, but Carlos thinks this question likely has more to do with the fact that Carlos is hooking up with TK than anything else. 

“Just turned 29 a couple months ago, sir.” Carlos says, he really hopes that’s within Owen’s range of acceptable ages for TK to date. If they are even dating.

“TK turns 27 in December.” Owen says in response, it doesn’t sound like outright disapproval, so Carlos is going to take what he can get.

Owen sits down at his desk, and motions to the chair on the other side, which Carlos sinks into. He keeps his coffee in his hand, because the desk looks nice and he doesn’t want to stain it. Actually, the entire office is nice, Carlos doesn’t think theres a single surface he would feel comfortable leaving a coffee cup on without a coaster.

“So, how much did TK tell you?” Owen asks.

“A little bit, he told me about, uh, seelie and unseelie courts? And about a couple type of fairies?” He phrases it as a question, because he has no clue if he’s using any of the words correctly. He takes another sip of the cappuccino, partially to mask his growing discomfort, and partially because he’s going to fall asleep if he doesn’t drink more caffeine.

“So he told you basically nothing.”

“Yeah…”

Owen rubs a hand down his face a sighs, “He failed debate in high school twice, you know? Could never actually get to the point of what he was trying to say.”

“That makes a lot of sense.” Carlos laughs softly. He’s positive that Owen is just trying to get him to relax, and it’s almost working.

“How about I start with the basics, and then we can fill in where ever you have questions?” Owen moves the conversation back to the topic at hand.

Carlos nods, and steels himself for another onslaught on life-altering facts.

“Fairies, fae and fairfolk are all words to refer to a broad group of species that have access to Fairie. Fairy with a Y is the name of the group, and Fairie with an IE is the name of our realm.” Owen pauses, and looks at Carlos to make sure he’s keeping up. “There are hundreds of types of fae, we are much more diverse than humans. One common feature is that we all have a connection to some piece of nature. There are some good online sources we’ve created for our children who grow up in the human world, most of them are meant for younger children, but I’ll send you the links.” 

Carlos nods, material for children seems like something he can handle right now.

“Seelie and unseelie are similar to political parties, or religious affiliations. TK told you I used to head the Seelie?” 

“Yessir, said you lost the throne to the, uh, unseelie queen?” 

“I did.” Owen has a pinched look on his face, and Carlos stumbles over his words to change the subject.

“TK said, he, uh… TK said there are probably five thousand fairies in the Austin area.” 

Owen gives him a look like he knows exactly what Carlos was doing, but takes the offered change in subject.

“Yes, fairies tend to prefer more rural areas when they live in the human world, but Austin has a bustling Little Faerie district.” Owen says, then he gives Carlos a questioning look, “Have you run into any fae, other than us?”

“At a coffee shop, there was this guy. He looked like, like a birch tree.” Carlos knows, logically that Owen knows what he’s talking about, but he can’t help but cringe as he talks. 

“Mm, a dryad.” Owen hums, “Odd that he’s so far south, birch isn’t endemic here, is it?” 

“No, sir.” Carlos confirms. 

Carlos twists his now empty coffee cup between his hands, watching the cup instead of Owen. He wishes that he could just have all of the knowledge, and not have to go through the awkward learning stage.

“How are you doing, Carlos?” Owen asks, voice gentle.

“I’m fine.” 

“Your entire world has been flipped upside down over the last, what? Ten days?” Owen stands up from his chair and moves around so that he’s standing next to Carlos. “It’s ok if you’re confused, or overwhelmed about this.”

Carlos shakes his head, “I’m fine, really.”

Owen doesn’t look convinced.

“It’s just been a rough week, I’ve been sick, on top of all of this fairy shit.” Carlos groans, he had not meant to swear in front of Owen, for so many reasons. 

When Carlos looks up, Owen is frowning. 

“What do you mean by sick?” Owen asks.

“Google said it was probably a migraine.” Carlos says. He’d spent a couple hours googling various combinations of ‘headache’ ‘nightmares’ and ‘hallucinations’, and according to webMD, he either had brain cancer, or a migraine. He’d figured migraine was more likely.

Owen is still looking at Carlos thoughtfully, and it makes Carlos’ skin crawl. The growing anxiety of not knowing whats going on is catching up to him, and the sleep deprivation coupled with extreme amounts of caffeine isn’t helping. 

“Does that mean something?” Carlos asks, and if he sounds a little desperate, thats no ones business but his own. 

“I have no idea, it just reminded me of something.” Owen says, placing a hand on Carlos’ shoulder. Any other time, the gesture would have been soothing, as it was likely intended. But Carlos startles the second Owen makes contact. 

Carlos might be being a little bit dramatic, but he kind of wants to curl up in bed and never leave, he’s known this man for literally an hour, and he’s having a mental breakdown like a child. 

“When is your shift today?” Owen asks.

“Starts at three,” Carlos says, “I should probably go home and try to sleep before.”

“Just stay here, we can set you up in a bunk.” Owen offers, “And, we can make sure you wake up for your shift.”

“Do I look that exhausted?”

“Yes.” Owen says, “I really don’t want you driving right now.”

Thats a logical enough that Carlos can’t argue, so he lets Owen set him up in the firehouse bunk room. Owen points Carlos at a bunk, says, “That one is usually TK’s,” and then leaves Carlos to his own devices. 

The room is spacious without feeling cavernous, something that the bunk room at the police station hasn’t managed. Carlos has only crashed at the station a few times, and had slept in full uniform those times, so he’s unsure what the policy is for level of undress thats appropriate.

In the end, he just kicks off his sneakers, and crawls into the bed in his jeans, it’s not the most comfortable, but he thinks he could probably fall asleep wearing head to toe wool in 90 degree weather at the moment. 

He’s out the moment his head hits the pillow, sinking into that type of dead sleep where there are no dreams, no concept of time passing. 

———-

He’s woken up by TK shaking his shoulder, which makes no sense, because why the hell is TK in his apartment?

“Get up, mom says it’s my turn with the bed.” TK says, grinning like he’s made some sort of fantastic joke.

“What?” Carlos mumbles, face still half pressed into the pillow. He’s never been good at waking up quickly. He shoves his elbows into the mattress underneath himself and presses into what his yogi sister would call cobra pose, he hates yoga.

He takes a look around the room, realizing that he’s at the fire house. He rolls over, tries to remember where he put his phone before passing out. It’s not on the small bedside table, so he must have put it with his shoes. He has no idea how long he’d been asleep, and desperately hopes he won’t be late to his shift. 

“Your shift starts in an hour, and I get to crash until the next call, so get out of the bed.” TK says, but he doesn’t seem insistent on Carlos actually leaving the bed, because he pulls the blanket back and slips in next to Carlos. 

If either Carlos or TK were any more awake, Carlos would be worried about what TK’s intentions were, but TK looks exhausted. The brilliantly colored black eye only exasperates the dark bags underneath TK’s eyes. And yet, TK still looks like a fucking runway model. Carlos thinks it’s unfair, but decides not to dwell on it as he peels himself out of the bed, leaving TK to sink into the spot Carlos had vacated with a soft sigh. Carlos decides not to dwell on that either. 

By the time Carlos has his shoes pulled on and located his phone, TK is passed out and breathing deeply. Carlos slips out of the room as quietly as he can, and makes his way down the stairs to the main level of the firehouse. He manages to get out of the firehouse without running into any members of the 126, he doesn’t think he’d be able to look Owen in the eye anymore, not after his mini breakdown in the man’s office earlier. 

———

“Unit 363 responding, on route to 64 Moore.” McCoy hits the light bar and sirens, turning the car to point them back towards downtown Austin. 

Carlos shoulder presses against the window as McCoy pulls a U-turn worthy of a Fast and Furious movie. He doesn’t want to go on this call, it’s structure fire downtown. Significant chance that the 126 will respond. 

“We on crowd control?” Carlos asks, he hadn’t paid attention to dispatch after hearing structure fire.

“Yup. Think we have time to grab coffee?” McCoy replies, his usual lack of tact firmly in place.

“You’re a terrible person, you know that right?” Carlos goes back to looking out the window.

McCoy laughs, but he bypasses the place they usually stop for coffee, so Carlos feels fairly confident that McCoy is going to get them to the fire in a timely fashion. 

There are three firetrucks on scene when they arrive, two of them have 126 emblazoned on the side. Carlos groans, he hadn’t expected to have to see Owen or TK after this morning, but the universe hasn’t exactly been on his side lately.

“Go check in with the scene commander, I’ll get a perimeter set up.” McCoy says, pulling a role of crime scene tape out of the trunk. Carlos nods, and points himself in the direction of the firetrucks. 

Neither of the Strands are at the firetrucks when Carlos approaches, probably on one of the hoses, or in the building itself. 

“Judd, hey!” He calls out, finding the one familiar name among the identical turnout coats. 

TK had told him that Judd wasn’t fully human, but it doesn’t stop the shock that runs through Carlos’ body when Judd turned around. 

“You’re green.” Carlos says, unintentionally saying what he’s thinking out loud. 

“I’ll give you a pass, ‘cause Cap told us you’re new at this.” Judd says, but he’s smiling at Carlos, despite what he’s sure is a major social faux pas. 

“Uh, I’m actually here to ask where you guys need us.” Carlos says, shaking off the previous blunder. They are both here to work, can’t stop to discuss the supernatural. 

Judd rattles off a list of tasks the firefighters need police assistance with, and Carlos radioes it out to McCoy, who is presumably (hopefully) doing his job and keeping civilians away from the blaze. 

Carlos is about to turn away and let Judd get back to his job, when Judd’s hand comes down on his shoulder. Carlos gives a questioning look, but only receives a shake of the head.

“C’mere,” Judd says, pulling Carlos around to the back end of the fire truck. “We have something we need you to keep an eye on.”

“Like, a, uh,” Carlos makes a vague motion with his hand, hoping that he doesn’t need to say the word fairy at a busy job. 

Judd smirks at him, but nods. “Look at the side of the building.”

The graffiti starts halfway up the building, a shade of red that Carlos can’t completely write off as paint. Carlos can’t read it, but it doesn’t look inviting like the signs at the 126 or at Martie’s.

“What does it say?”

“We come for the false king, and his false disciples.” Judd translates. “Dramatic fuckers.”

“I’m guessing it’s talking about Owen?” Carlos asks. 

Judd nods, “Just watch out for anything suspicious.”

Carlos doesn’t know what counts as suspicious in this situation, but he agrees nonetheless. Judd claps him on the back and heads back towards the fire, leaving Carlos to stare at the graffitied message. 

“Brace yourself Officer, it’s just getting started.” Judd calls, before disappearing into the building. 

Carlos has no idea what he’s supposed to be bracing for, so he just sets his shoulders and does his job. For now, he supposes that will be good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> I also want to say how much I appreciate everybody who leaves comments, I love receiving them so much, and I do take what you guys say into account! I actually rewrote this entire chapter and added 2k words because someone left a comment asking for clarification on a couple topics. So thank you!!!


	6. Spar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still haven't edited!
> 
> This chapter was called 'cute interlude' in my outline, so be prepared for the tarlos. It's also the only nice thing I will be giving y'all for a while, because the plot catches up after this chapter.
> 
> Also, we will be going far over the original 6 chapters that I estimated. Current count puts us at like 14-16 chapters, so buckle up buttercups.

It should probably be illegal for any activity to start before eight in the morning. The only problem with that is that Carlos would likely be the person having to make those arrests, which would mean being up before eight. God, he hates mornings.

TK doesn’t seem to share Carlos’ views on the early hours of the day, because he is practically bouncing, has been since he picked Carlos up this morning, after calling to wake Carlos up at ass o’clock in the morning.

“Where’d you get a car?” Carlos had asked.

“It’s my dad’s, he’s not going anywhere today.” TK had replied. Carlos thinks that Owen probably isn’t going anywhere because TK took the car, not the other way around.

TK drives them to Martie’s diner, going five over the limit the entire way. Carlos makes a comment about not breaking the law with a cop in the car, that’s a mistake. TK smirks, says, “I’m sure I can persuade you to let me go.”

Martie’s is much busier at seven thirty in the morning than it is at midnight, which shouldn’t be a surprise. Carlos is going to blame TK for not letting him sleep in, sleep deprivation can be very dangerous.

“That’s my booth.” Carlos says, staring at the back corner of the diner where an elderly couple are sipping at coffee.

“Is your name on it?” TK asks, wrapping a hand around Carlos’ arm and dragging him off to a booth pressed against the front window. Carlos doesn’t put up a fight, he knows he’s being petulant, he just doesn’t care. He needs coffee.

They aren’t even seated for a minute before Martie swings by the booth, looking as bright and chipper as ever, even though Carlos knows she’s been working since nine the previous night.

“How about I just bring you boys a pot of coffee before I try to ask any questions.” She says, setting menus down in front of them. Carlos nods enthusiastically, and then puts his head down on the table.

“So, I’m guessing I shouldn’t expect any conversation until after the second cup?” TK asks, he’s unfairly energetic for this time of morning.

“No human being should be expected to be awake at this time of morning.” Carlos mumbles, face still pressed into his arms.

“Well,” TK says, and Carlos can hear the smirk, “It is a great thing that I’m not human, isn’t it.”

Carlos doesn’t think that dignifies a response.

Martie drops off a pot of the house roast, which is the most delicious coffee Carlos has ever tasted. He would ask about the ingredients, but he has a feeling he’d have to make an arrest if he did that.

Carlos sips slowly at his coffee, smiling to himself as the caffeine hits his system. TK is still pulling sugar packets out of the little holder on the table, if the pile of already used packets is anything to go by, there are at least six sugars already in TK’s coffee.

“So. You drag me out of my house three hours before my alarm was going to go off, for what? Just for breakfast?” Carlos asks, after finishing his first cup of coffee and pouring himself a second.

“Yeah, pretty much!” TK says.

“That’s a terrible reason for waking me up.”

“Look, my dad said you were kinda freaking out about everything.” TK says, he’s not looking at Carlos, instead focusing on the jam packets he’s stacking into a tower. “I figured doing something normal would be good for you. And if you wanna talk about it, you can.”

The jam tower reaches its maximum height and teeters, but holds strong.

“I’m a much better at listening than I am at explaining.” TK says. “I promise.”

Carlos considers the offer, he hasn’t spent a lot of time trying to process the information from the last week. Actually, he’s spent the last week trying to avoid processing everything. He can’t even describe how he’s feeling.

“I’m fine.” That’s a lie. “I’m just…”

Carlos sighs, tries again. “This would be easier if this was an immediate threat.”

“What do you mean?” TK asks, slow and easy. There’s no judgement in his voice.

“I mean that everything is exactly the same. My whole world is flipped upside down, and nothing fucking changed. There’s nothing I can do about it, because there’s nothing wrong.” Carlos’ voice rises slightly.

TK nods, looks Carlos right in the eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. Carlos appreciates that, he’d probably kill TK if he tried to give advice.

“I don’t know how to react, because there’s no precedence for this. There’s nothing I can compare this to, nothing I can find to help. I’m completely on my own here.” Carlos says. The words don’t quite match how he feels, but he doesn’t know the words for how he feels, so this will have to do.

“Cognitive dissonance.” TK says, breaking the silence that envelopes the table. “Your thoughts and actions aren’t matching up.”

“What?”

“In your head, everything has changed, everything you thought you knew is wrong now. But your actions don’t reflect that, you’re just living life like normal. It’s that mismatch that feels so…” He trails off, trying to find the word. “Yucky.”

“Yucky?” Carlos laughs, of all the descriptors that had come to mind, yucky wasn’t one of them.

“Am I wrong?” TK tips his coffee cup towards Carlos, almost spilling it all over the table.

“No, uh, I feel pretty yucky.” Carlos says. The unease that’s been coiled tight in his chest relaxes, not a lot, but enough for him to take a deep breath.

“I have an idea.” TK says. “You trust me?”

Carlos does not, in fact, trust TK, not yet at least. He does think they’re going to get there, just not immediately. It doesn’t matter, because TK doesn’t wait for an answer, swinging his legs out of the booth and telling Carlos to sit tight.

TK finds Martie at the counter, flashing her a flirty smile. Carlos can’t hear what TK is saying, and he’s positioned badly for lipreading. Martie smiles brightly back, and then thwacks TK over the head with a menu. Only TK could make someone smile like that and hit him at the same time.

“Our pancakes will be here in just a minute!” TK says, slipping back into the booth. “You work today?” Carlos shakes his head, he’d finished his last ten of the week last night.

“Perfect.” TK says, pulling out his phone.

They wait for the pancakes in silence, Carlos trying to deduce what TK’s plans are, while TK texts back and forth with somebody. The conversation isn’t going well, if TK’s frustrated huffs are anything to go by.

Martie drops the pancakes off, already in to-go boxes. She winks at Carlos, tells them to have fun and be safe, before taking the cash TK hands her and waving them off.

TK grabs the to-go box, and stands up, already pulling his keys out of his pocket. “Let’s go, we don’t have all day.”

Carlos follows him out of the diner, “Where exactly are we going?” He asks, stopping next to the SUV that TK is unlocking.

“It’s a surprise.” TK says.

Carlos gets into the car, despite his better judgement.

TK’s phone starts ringing on the highway out of the city, the caller ID says ‘Dad’.

“Can you answer that?” TK asks. “Put it on speaker phone.”

“Hi, Owen? This is Carlos,” Carlos says, putting the phone to his ear, “TK is driving, so I’m putting you on speakerphone.”

“TK, where are you, and where is my car?” Owen’s voice comes out tinny.

“I’m taking Carlos to the beorhstede holt.” TK replies, thankfully not taking his eyes off of the road.

While Carlos had been wondering where they were heading, this doesn’t actually tell him anything. He wonders if duolingo has an Old English program. There’s got to be something on the internet that will at least translate Old English.

By the time he tunes back into the phone conversation happening next to him, Owen is saying, “Be safe, I love you,” and hanging up.

Carlos places TK’s phone in the cupholder. “So, where are we going?” He tries again.

They are out of the city now, heading into the hills. TK still doesn’t respond, instead taking a sharp left onto a dirt road.

“The beorhstede holt, most beautiful place in Austin.” TK says, not bothering to explain what the fuck he was actually saying.

“I’m gonna need a translation on that, TK.” Carlos says, he knows better than to expect a reasonable explanation from TK, but he can hope.

“Just hold your horses for thirty more minutes okay?” TK says, but he’s grinning as he parks the car on the side of the dirt road. There’s a pickup truck already parked ahead of them, Carlos wonders if that’s who TK had been texting earlier. The firefighter plates on the truck confirm that theory.

TK climbs out of the SUV and pulls open the trunk, grabbing a pair of hiking boots.

“You wearing shoes you can hike in?” TK asks, as he pulls off his converse sneakers.

“No, I wasn’t informed that we would be hiking today!” Carlos says, as much as he loves hiking, he is unprepared to hike in the flimsy shoes he’s wearing.

“What size shoe are you?” TK says, and holds up another pair of hiking boots. “If they fit, you can wear my dads.”

Carlos grabs the boots. As weird as it is to wear someone else’s boots, if they fit he’s going to wear them. The boots are a half size too big, nothing he can’t handle. He sits in the trunk next to TK and pulls them on, lacing them as tight as he can to make up for the size difference.

It’s not a hard hike, the incline is gentle, but the terrain is rocky and uneven and Carlos is thankful for the boots. TK is ahead of him, leading the way up the narrow path that has no actual markers. Sunlight filters through the trees, casting the trail in dappled greens and yellows. It’s beautiful, and familiar in a way Carlos can’t place. He’s hiked most of the trails in the Austin area, but this one clearly isn’t on any maps or hiking websites.

They hike for half an hour before TK finally slows down his relentless pace, stopping in front of a tall face of rocks.

“Almost there,” TK says, turning back to face Carlos. “Just need to climb this.” He jerks a thumb at the craggily rock behind him.

“You’re joking, that’s like ten feet of free climbing.” Carlos asks in disbelief, there’s absolutely no way he’s getting up that, even if he had climbing gear.

“Yeah, I’m joking, there’s some natural stairs around the corner.” TK grins, and motions for Carlos to follow him around the side. There are large stones piled against the side of the small cliff, leading upwards. TK scrambles up the rocks, looking graceful in a way that should be illegal. Carlos picks his way up, much slower than TK, unable to avoid the small moving rocks like TK had.

There are only a few feet of grass at the top, before a thick wall of trees cut off the rest of the land. TK is leaning against one of the nearest trees, and he motions for Carlos to join him.

“So, you gonna tell me what we’re doing now that we’re here?” Carlos asks.

“I think this will help you,” TK says, “You want your thoughts and actions to match up, right?” Carlos nods, not sure where TK is going with this. “And I can’t change the way you think, but I can take you to do something that’s about as crazy as you probably feel right now.”

“Okay…” Carlos says, he can see the logic there, kind of. “So where are we.”

“The beorhstede holt, the mountain grove.” TK says, “It’s a Fairie space.”

“Can I even go in a Fairie space?” Carlos asks.

“Yeah, of course. I just gotta claim you.” TK says, and pulls a small knife out of his pocket. He brings it to his own thumb and makes a small cut, hissing.

“What the actual fuck are you doing?” Carlos yelps, ducking out of the way when TK raises his bloody thumb towards Carlos. “Do you know the prevalence of bloodborne pathogens?” He yells.

“I’m not even human!” TK yells back, “Paul doesn’t put up such a fight when we need to claim him!”

“I’m not Paul! And why the hell do you need to put your gross bodily fluids on me?”

“Thats just how it works, now c’mere.” TK says, then he pauses, “I got a full STD panel like 2 weeks ago, I don’t have any bloodborne anything, okay?”

Carlos relaxes a little, but still keeps a hand out between him and TK. He is here to embrace the crazy, so he might as well go all the way.

“Fine. But don’t go near any mucus membranes.” He says.

TK mutters ‘thank you’ with enough attitude to make a thirteen year old girl jealous. He swipes his thumb against the side of Carlos’ neck, leaving a cold wet feeling behind. It’s not the first time Carlos has had someone else’s blood on him, but it is the first time he’s okayed it beforehand.

There’s a figure standing on the far side of the grove when they step through the trees.

“Marjan!” TK calls. “Sorry it took so long, somebody,” He glances back at Carlos, “Had some issues with being claimed.”

“Well, did you explain before or after you tried to wipe blood on him?” She laughs.

“Uh, after?” TK only now seems to understand why Carlos had freaked out.

“Dumbass.” Marjan says, affection clear in her voice.

She walks past TK and holds a hand out for Carlos to shake, “I’m Marjan,” She says, “We’ve met on calls a few times.”

“I remember.” Carlos says, too busy staring at her to realize he’s being rude. Her skin changes color with every movement she makes, shifting between shades of gold and brown. She’s even prettier than TK, which until now Carlos had thought impossible.

“Tiger’s eye.” Marjan says, pulling Carlos’ attention back to her.

“What?”

“My skin, it’s tiger’s eye.” She says, “And I’ll give you a pass for staring, just this once.”

Theres heat rising in Carlos’ cheeks, and he ducks his head. “Uh, sorry. I really don’t mean to be rude.”

She just laughs at him some more, and pats his arm. Then she turns back to face TK, who had wandered off to the other side of the grove while Marjan and Carlos had been talking.

“So, the usual?” She calls.

“That’s the plan. I’m just trying to find a place for Carlos to sit.” TK calls back, circling around the stump of what had once been a huge tree. “This should be safe, right?”

Marjan gives a thumbs up, then addresses Carlos, “Did prince charming over there tell you what we’re doing?”

“He didn’t even tell me where we were going until we were standing outside the grove.” Carlos says.

“Ugh, typical.” She frowns, “We come here to spar.”

“You fight each other?” Carlos asks, crossing the field to the stump behind Marjan.

“Kind of,” She says, and sends a smirk towards TK, who returns it easily.

TK puts both of his hands on Carlos’ shoulders, presses him down onto the stump. “Just watch, okay?”

Carlos shifts on the stump, pulling both legs underneath himself to sit cross-legged. TK and Marjan have taken up positions on either side of the grove, with nearly twenty feet between them. He’s unsure how they plan to spar with the much distance separating them.

“Watch.” TK calls, voice gentle. He stands straight, arms held by his side loosely. Carlos doesn’t think this is truly worth watching, other than a strong wind blowing through the trees, nothing in the clearing is moving.

Until everything moves. The trees surrounding them dance in the wind, leaves and dirt being swept up and twirled through the air. The ground itself seems to move, rippling like water around a dropped stone.

And then Marjan goes flying backwards, an invisible force hitting her square in the chest. She lands in a tucked roll, leaping back up to her feet. The direction of the wind changes, following her gaze to send debris flowing in a mini tornado around TK.

The tornado tightens its circle, until the branches caught up in it are centimeters away from TK’s face. He doesn’t flinch, just widens his stance and sets his shoulders.

Carlos does flinch, when TK is flipped upside down, hovering a foot above the ground. He’s held there for a stretched out moment, and then he’s dropped back to the ground unceremoniously, landing hard on one shoulder and rolling. TK pushes back to his feet, grinning. Marjan smiles back.

“You ready?” She calls.

“Bring it.”

They pick up the pace, dodging attacks that come from seemingly nowhere. TK somersaults over roots of a tree that push through the earth, trying to trip him. Marjan is picked up again, this time being thrown into the waiting arms of a nearby tree. She’s set down gently, the branches creaking and bending to place her back on her feet.

Carlos sits, transfixed. He’s watching a well rehearsed dance, where the violence seems secondary to fun. Both firefighters are breathing heavily through twin grins as they twist around each others attacks, sending wind and leaves and roots and branches in dizzying patterns that Carlos can’t keep up with.

It ends with TK being thrown into a tree and getting tangled in the branches. This tree doesn’t seem to want to help him, like the tree had helped Marjan earlier.

“Ok, I yield.” He yells, out of breath.

The tree drops him gracelessly on the ground. He springs up like he hadn’t just been dropped twenty feet, brushes off his jeans.

“Carlos, c’mere.” TK says, approaching the stump. Carlos straightens his legs with a groan, and hops down.

TK holds his hand out, and Carlos takes it. “Things are about to get pretty crazy.” TK says, grabbing Carlos’ other hand. They stand there, perfectly still except for the rise and fall of their chests, pressed against each other.

Carlos is about to open his mouth, ask what TK is talking about, when the wind picks up around them. It whips through TK’s hair, and grabs the hood of Carlos’ hoodie. The leaves at their feet are swept up, dancing in circles around them. A second later, Carlos feels his heels leave the ground, toes barely scraping the grass. Panic surges in his chest, but TK pulls him tighter and tighter as they rise off the ground, carried effortlessly on the back on wind that has no business holding up two grown men.

When the shock wears off, Carlos finally moves his gaze away from TK’s eyes. The branches that protect the grove are eye level, and the grass below them is just a green blanket waiting for their return.

“Fuck,” Carlos breaths out, unable to come up with something more delicate to describe the awe thats flooding his chest.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” TK says, smiling gently at Carlos.

Carlos has no idea how long they stay up there, the swirling wind taking away all sense of time as well as gravity.

The winds sets them down on the ground gently. Carlos misses the sensation of being weightless the second he has to stand under his own power.

“Thank you,” He whispers to TK, pressed tight against his chest, “For all of this.”

———-

**U up?**

The text from TK comes through while Carlos is in the shower, so he accidentally ignores it for nearly half an hour.

**Yeah, whats up?**

Carlos has a feeling he knows where this is going. There are very few reasons a text like that gets sent after midnight, and TK had already expressed disinterest in one of those reasons. So, most likely, this is a booty call.

**Can I come over?**

As much as Carlos wishes that it were something more, he can’t deny that he enjoys hooking up with TK. It’s probably the best sex he’s had in years.

**Side doors unlocked**

Carlos looks down at the ratty APD t-shirt and old boxer briefs he’s wearing, not exactly the sexiest outfit in the world. He should probably change, if tonight is going the way he thinks it is. He pulls a slightly nicer shirt out of his drawers, and a pair of sweatpants for good measure.

He’s only just finished pulling the shirt over his head when a soft knocks sounds on his side door. A second later, the door creaks open.

“Hey,” TK calls out softly. Carlos exits his bedroom to meet TK in the laundry room. TK is standing just inside the door, arms wrapped around himself. He looks upset, and Carlos means to ask, but he doesn’t get a chance.

TK grabs Carlos the second he comes within reach, pressing their mouths together harshly. It’s rougher than the last time, and TK seems almost desperate in his motions. Carlos reciprocates the rough treatment, pushing TK against the washing machine. TK gasps, moving his hands from Carlos’ hair to his own shirt, stripping it off quickly.

The rest of their clothing follows. They don’t make it to the bedroom, but TK doesn’t seem to mind being pressed against the washing machine.

“So, why tonight?” Carlos asks, after they’ve caught their breath and collected their clothes.

“No reason,” TK presses another open mouthed kiss to Carlos’ throat. “Wanna move this to your bed?”

Carlos nods, but he’s not convinced. As fun as it is, TK doesn’t seem the type to hook up for no reason at all.

“TK, seriously. What’s going on?” Carlos asks, as he sits down on the bed. TK doesn’t follow, instead standing at the end of the bed. “You’re obviously upset, and while that was fun and all, you’re using me as an outlet and I want to know why.”

TK’s breath hitches, Carlos wouldn’t have even noticed it if he hadn’t been watching TK’s face, for any signs of what was happening.

“Hey,” He grabs TK’s hands, “I’m a pretty decent listener myself.”

TK shakes his head, but lets Carlos pull him onto the bed. He curls in towards Carlos, slotting their legs together, and pulling Carlos’ arm over his waist.

“I got some bad news today.” TK whispers, after minutes of dragging silence. “I know this isn’t healthy. Figured this was a better way to deal with it though, rather than…”

Carlos can fill in the blank. Rather than hook up with a stranger, rather than fight, rather than lose his sobriety. He hugs TK tighter.

“What happened.” Carlos says, there are slight tremors running through TK’s body.

“My dad has cancer.” TK says. He pulls away from Carlos, props himself up on an elbow.

“That’s possible?” Carlos had seen TK fall from twenty feet with not even a scratch, coupled with the comment about bloodborne diseases and being a fairy, Carlos had assumed that fairies weren’t affected by these sorts of things the same way humans are.

“Shouldn’t be.” TK laughs, hysterical and teary. “He’s not allowed in Fairie spaces anymore, and now it’s been so long since he’s been back that his body is breaking down. He’s sick like a fucking human.” TK spits out the word human.

“Is he getting treatment?” Carlos asks, pulling TK back down against his chest. TK burrows his face into Carlos’ neck, mumbles “Yes. Probably won’t work though.”

They lay in silence, TK’s tears soaking into the collar of Carlos’ shirt. He has no idea what to say, what to do.

“I wish I could take it back.” TK mumbles, not moving his head.

“Take what back?” Carlos says, quiet and gentle.

“The seelie throne. I have the bloodline, and then my dad could go back to Fairie, and he’d be ok. It could work, Carlos. I could do it.” TK raises back up, looking down at Carlos with a terrible desperation in his eyes.

“You could take down an entire army?” Carlos asks. He doesn’t want to be cruel, but TK looks just desperate enough to go on a suicide mission the second he’s left alone.

TK’s face falls, and his body falls just afterwards. “I know.” He mumbles, before the hitch in his breath takes over again.

Carlos just holds him. For tonight, that’s all he can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you guys, so let me know what you think!!!


	7. Ms. Mason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not edited!
> 
> Sorry for the wait guys, I haven't had power for a few days!

_There’s a young boy sitting in the middle of a grove of trees, he’s alone. There’s something in the trees, and they know he’s there._

_Ash to his right, oak to his left. He sits against the thorn tree._

_He sits still, holds his breath every time the wind moves the trees. It’s not the wind moving the trees. He doesn’t want them to know he’s here. He doesn’t want to be here._

_Oak to his right, thorn to his left. He’s laying underneath the ash tree._

_The moon is full and bright, lights up the grove like sunlight. It doesn’t make a difference in the unending darkness of the trees surrounding him, so he keeps his gaze upwards, towards the moon._

_He stands in the middle of the grove, watches the tree line, watches the shadows grow._

_Thorn behind him, ash in front. Oak reaches out, he reaches back._

_His hand falls on nothing. Theres nothing in the grove, nothing this far into the mountains._

_He spins, searching for oak. The tree had loomed over him seconds before. He finds nothing but a stump._

_There is no oak in the beorhstede holt, hasn’t been for twenty years._

————

There are hands pressing Carlos into the mattress, anchoring him at his shoulders. He gasps, eyes flying open as awareness floods in. The headache from earlier in the week is back in full force, and his hands tremble. Adrenaline, from a dream he only half remembers.

TK is kneeling on the bed, looking down at Carlos. He removes his hands, but he looks scared, eyes flitting to every part of Carlos he can see.

“What was that, Carlos.” TK asks panic in his voice, now skimming his hands over Carlos’ torso, looking for damage he isn’t going to find.

Carlos shakes his head, he can’t fucking think. The grove, why the grove? He’s been there before, he’s been there so many times. He closes his eyes, tries to focus.

“Carlos, look at me.” TK says, interrupting the panicked thoughts, “You nearly stopped breathing, what was that?”

“Nightmare.” Carlos forces out, voice hoarse from sleep. He has to consciously unlock all of his muscles, his entire body is tense. The headache is only getting worse, his eyes stay closed.

“You were talking in your sleep, about the beorhstede holt.” TK says, “You couldn’t even pronounce that in the car earlier.”

Carlos swings his arm over his eyes, the pounding in his head is just getting worse, and TK’s voice isn’t helping the situation. He can’t fucking think, why can’t he just think?

“You’re scaring me, Carlos.” TK says, “Tell me what’s going on, or I’m going to assume somethings wrong.”

The headache peaks, and Carlos can’t stop the low moan of pain that escapes his lips. He’s just trying to think. No. He’s not trying to think, he’s trying to remember. The grove. The oak that used to be there. He sat on the stump of the tree he once sat under.

She brought him there, didn’t she?

Yes.

The memories flood back, washing away the headache. He remembers sitting in the grove at night, alone and scared. He remembers playing in the grove, watched over and protected. He remembers entire days spent hiking those woods, listening to tales of fae long dead.

“I’m okay,” He mumbles, sits up unsteadily. TK’s hand are on his waist and neck, helping him lean against the headboard, supporting his head.

“Carlos, open your eyes.” TK says, voice professional, “Follow my finger with your eyes only, don’t move your head.”

“I’m not concussed.” Carlos says, he pushes TK hands away. “TK, the grove. I’ve been there before.”

“That’s impossible.” TK shakes his head. “You need a fairy escort to get in, you wouldn’t be able to get there. Listen, I’m still worried there’s something medical going on here, will you let me-,”

Carlos cuts him off, “No, listen to me. I’ve been there before, my babysitter took me there when I was little.”

“Okay…” TK says, sounding unsure.

TK pulls away from Carlos, pulls his phone off of the bedside table. They both blink harshly when TK opens his phone, it takes him a second to get the screen brightness down to a reasonable level.

“What are you doing?” Carlos asks.

“Calling my dad.” Tk says, “What you’re saying is impossible, unless your babysitter was fae.”

“She isn’t” Carlos says, and knocks the phone out of TK’s hand. He has no idea why he does it the second his hand moves.

“What the fuck. Carlos.” TK yelps.

“I’m telling the truth.” Carlos says, there’s a bitter frustration that overwhelming logical thinking. “Why don’t you believe me?”

The expression of doubt on TK’s face melts a little bit, “It’s not that I don’t believe you. I just don’t see how this could have happened.”

Carlos scrubs a hand down his face, trying to think of anything to prove his memories to TK. As far as he knows, mind-melds are Star Trek specific, and won’t help him much. It’s not like he has anybody to corroborate his story.

Except he does.

“Ms. Mason.” He practically yells.

“Who?” TK says, now texting somebody after picking his phone back up.

“My babysitter, she still lives in the area. She can tell you.” Carlos shoves the blankets off of his legs, swinging himself off the bed. “You can borrow some sweats.”

TK hops off the bed, following Carlos to the dresser. He puts a hand on Carlos’ arm, stopping him from opening the drawer.

“It’s four in the morning.” TK says, moving with Carlos as he tries to free his arm, “Hey! We can still go, let’s just wait till seven or so, okay?”

Carlos deflates, drops his arms to his sides and nods. As much as he feels the need to solve the problem now, waiting till it’s not the middle of the night makes sense. At least there’s a plan of action he can count on.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” Carlos says, once he’s settled on a way to waste the time between now and seven. A long shower will eat up almost an hour if he really takes his time.

“Okay. I’m gonna actually call my dad now, if that’s cool?” TK says, waggling his phone at Carlos. He looks anxious about asking, like he’s expecting a no. Carlos tells him it’s fine as he gathers his clothes to take into the bathroom.

Carlos can just hear TK’s voice over the water, after he turns on the shower. Part of him thinks it’s nice, having someone waiting for him in his bedroom. The other part is slightly more realistic, and slightly concerned about leaving someone he really only barely knows alone in his private space.

He decides to let it go, and steps under the water. There are nicer things he can think about it the shower, or preferably he could just not think at all.

————

Carlos steps back into his bedroom, fully clothed and feeling much calmer than he had before his shower. The adrenaline has worn off, letting logic back into the equation. The clock on his night stand says four fifty-three. The fact that TK has fallen back asleep says that he took way too long in the shower.

Carlos sits on the side of the bed and reaches over to shake TK’s shoulder. TK grumbles and tries to swat him away, so Carlos shakes him again, until TK opens his eyes and acknowledges him.

“What did your dad say?” He asks, once TK has sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

TK yawns, and waves a hand at Carlos, as if that explains anything.

“Said he might have an idea,” TK says finally, “He’s gonna consult someone or another.”

“That is… so helpful.” Carlos doesn’t think he’s gonna get anymore information out of TK.

“He’s gonna call me back in a few hours.” TK says, proving Carlos’ point.

They sit on the bed for another few minutes, TK’s eyes blinking slower and slower. Carlos thinks he’s going to fall asleep sitting up if they don’t move.

“Breakfast?” He asks, unsure if breakfast crosses whatever line had been set by the disastrous dinner last week. If that line even exists anymore, secret groves and sleep overs probably don’t fall within regular hook up protocols.

It turns out he didn’t have anything to worry about, as TK just yaws again, asks “What do you have for breakfast?”

They make their way into the kitchen to survey the contents of Carlos’ fridge. Carlos pulls a carton of eggs out, and holds it up for TK to see.

“If you have cheese, I make pretty good omelettes.” TK offers.

Carlos pulls a block of cheddar out of its drawer and tosses it to TK, then crosses the kitchen to find a bowl and frypan for TK to use. He sets the kettle on the stove while he’s at it, boiling water for the many cups of coffee he’s going to need.

“You want coffee?” Carlos asks, pulling a mugs out of the cabinet. “I’ve also got some tea, if you want.”

“What do you got for tea?” TK says, cracking eggs into the bowl. “Also how many eggs?”

“Three, I guess?” Carlos answers, before opening another cabinet to check his tea selection. All of the boxes were given to him by his mother, and to be honest he hasn’t even opened any of them since the last time he’d had the flu.

“Uh, English breakfast, earlgrey, cons-,”

“Earlgrey, please.” TK interrupts.

The kettle whistles, and Carlos slips behind TK to pull it off the stove. It feels awfully domestic, Carlos thinks, TK making eggs for the both of them, while Carlos makes him tea. But in reality, they’re barely even friends with benefits, Carlos reminds himself.

By the time they settle in at the table, eating in silence, the sun has risen. It only makes Carlos more anxious to start the day, but he tries to collect himself while he sips at his coffee and eats the slightly burnt omelette TK had made. TK’s excuse for the burning was that Carlos’ stove was different from his own, Carlos didn’t really mind the crisp parts at all.

———

“Tell me about her.” TK says, when they pull out of the driveway in Carlos’ car.

“Ms. Mason?” Carlos asks.

“Yeah. Is she actually human? Like, what’s the deal?” TK says.

“I think she’s human, at least from the way she talked about it with me, that’s the idea I got.” Carlos answers, thinking back on the last conversation he’d had with her. “She’s actually the reason I figured any of the fairy stuff out.” He glances over at TK, who’s staring out the window, but nods to show he’s listening.

“You told her about fairy stuff?” TK asks.

“No, she told me about fairy stuff. She’s always been obsessed, as far back as I can remember it’s always been fairies this, fairies that. Always thought she just had a few screws loose, until recently.”

“So, she told you about fairy shit when you were little, even though you didn’t have the sight?” TK says, trying to fit the pieces together.

“Yeah…” Carlos wonders if it’s worth it to tell TK everything, he decides to go for it before he loses his nerve, “Listen, she did things to me-,”

“I am absolutely not the person to tell about that.” TK interrupts, sounding concerned and slightly panicked.

“Oh my god, not like that.” Carlos mentally curses himself out, for making that mistake in phrasing again. “I mean like… Like she tried to give me the sight.”

“That’s impossible Carlos.” TK says. It’s starting to piss Carlos off, how many things TK is writing off as impossible, when fairies are literally real.

“How do you know. TK, how do you know that she’s not the reason I have the sight now?” Carlos demands.

“Because it’s a physical difference in the brain, if you have the sight or not. You can’t just grow another fucking section of the striate cortex overnight, it doesn’t work like that.” TK says, matching Carlos in volume and intensity.

“Oh.” Carlos says, “No one told me that.”

They sit in silence after that, as Carlos navigates the early morning traffic. No one attempts to break the uneasy quiet in the car until Carlos pulls onto the street adjacent to Ms. Mason’s house. He parks the car on the side of the street and hopes that whoever owns the house won’t be mad about it.

“Her house is around the corner.” Carlos says.

“Any reason we parked all the way over here?” TK asks. It’s a reasonable question, even if the answer is less reasonable.

“My mom lives across the street, don’t want her seeing my car.” Carlos says, rubbing the back of his neck. TK nods, like avoiding one’s parents is a perfectly reasonable explaination.

It’s a quick walk around the corner and through the unruly garden covering Ms. Mason’s front yard. Carlos has loved the garden as a kid, spent hours helping Ms. Mason plant and weed and water.

“Carlos.” TK says, low and urgent. “Is the front door supposed to look like that?”

It may have been phrased as a question, but theres no doubt in either of their minds that the broken hinge isn’t a good thing. Anxiety curls in Carlos’ ribcage, he’s seen too many calls at work that start like this, and nearly none of them end well.

Carlos toes the door open, calling out to Ms. Mason as he does. He really wishes that he’d brought his gun with him from the car. The front room looks untouched, beyond the busted door, and Carlos lets himself relax just a touch as he calls out to Ms. Mason once again, as he moves into the kitchen.

The kitchen is a mess, nearly every possession that had once been neatly tucked away is on the floor, broken pottery and glass, scattered knives and cutlery making the floor a harmful maze. He feels the panic surge up, muted only by the grace of being in a profession where he’s seen scenes like this before.

The table in the middle of the room is the only section left untouched, and the anxiety in Carlos’ chest evaporates, relief filling in the hole it leaves, as he spots Ms. Mason.

“Ms. Mason,” He calls again, moving towards where she’s sitting at the kitchen table facing the opposite wall. “What happened?” He asks, moving to put a hand on her shoulder.

The second his hand touches her shoulder, she collapses. Like a marionette cut from its strings she slips to the side, reaching the floor before Carlos can catch her.

TK pushes past Carlos, who’s frozen to the spot, kneeling directly on shards of glass as he turns Ms. Mason onto her back. His fingers look for her pulse underneath her jaw, the other hand cupping the back of her head, tilting her head to the side.

Carlos already knows he’s not going to find anything. She’d already been cold, when he’s touched her shoulder.

He should probably call 911.

He doesn’t even get his phone out of his pocket before TK is scrambling to his feet, grabbing Carlos by the arm.

“Carlos, we need to leave now.” TK says, trying to pull Carlos towards the door.

“I need to call the police.” Carlos says, yanking his arm out of TK’s grasp.

“No, we need to leave. This was the queensguard,” TK says, desperation clear in his voice, “They branded her, Carlos. We need to leave before they come back.”

“No, I can’t leave her there, I can’t just…” Carlos doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. TK grabs him again, this time employing whatever nonhuman strength he has to push Carlos through the door into the front room. They both stumble to a stop, eyes on the words scrawled across the top of the door in half dried red liquid.

“Wé copodon þín foreboda” TK reads, then shakes his head hard. “Move.” He says, shoving Carlos underneath the message and out of the house.

TK keeps a hand on Carlos’ back, forcing his to keep moving forwards, out of the garden and onto the street. TK doesn’t remove his hand until they reach Carlos’ car.

“What the fuck, TK.” Carlos wants to yell, but manages to keep his voice at a reasonable volume. “Why would she even be a target for them, you and your fucking family are who they’re after!” He does yell the last part.

“Carlos, unlock the car. We’ll talk once we are on the fucking road.” TK says, nearly begging Carlos to get them out of there.

“I’m sorry, I know she meant something to you.” TK says, once they pull onto the main road, “And I don’t know why she would be a target, maybe because you got involved with us. ”

Carlos doesn’t respond, just tightens his hands on the steering wheel, so that they can’t shake. He’s seen so much death in his line of work, but it never gets easier. Even with strangers, death is hard. And now it might be because of him, because he had to get involved with the pretty boy with a fucked up past. Sins of the father, or rather the fathers enemies, Carlos thinks. He can’t entirely blame TK for the situation, even if he wants to at the moment.

“What did the message say.” Carlos asks, instead of addressing what TK had said.

“We stole your messenger. I have no clue what it means.” TK says.

Carlos has no idea either, so he ignore that as well. He takes one hand off the steering wheel to dig his phone out of his pocket.

“Carlos, don’t.” TK says. Carlos just glares, ignoring TK.

He dials 911 with one hand, and puts the phone on speaker.

“This is Officer Carlos Reyes, APD.” He tells the dispatcher, and recites his badge number. “I want to request a welfare check on an elderly neighbor, she hasn’t responded to my calls and I’m concerned about her wellbeing.”

“Alright, Officer.” The dispatcher says, after he gives her the address, “I’ll pass on your message.”

Carlos hangs up the phone and tosses it in the cupholder. “I’m not stupid, I wasn’t going to tell them we were there.” He says, pointedly not looking at TK. Not that TK is paying any attention to him.

“What did she say, at the end there…” TK says slowly.

“That she’d pass on my message?” Carlos says, wondering what the hell that has to do with anything.

“That would make the dispatcher the messenger, right?” TK asks, sounding urgent.

“Yeah, I guess.” Carlos says, not sure what TK is getting at.

“Wé copodon þín foreboda, we stole your messenger.” TK says, “Carlos, Judd’s wife is a dispatcher, and she has the sight.”

“You think she’s the messenger?” Carlos asks, now understanding the urgency.

“Yeah, I do.” TK’s expression is grim, when Carlos pulls his eyes away from the road.

“I have a gun safe in the back of my car, tell me where we need to go.” Carlos says, wishing he had his cruiser with the light bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you guys, so leave a comment if you want!
> 
> Also, to respond to a few people  
> -Yes! If you see major grammatical mistakes, point them out and I'll fix them! I'm a STEM major, and literally haven't taken an english class in like 5 years, so idk how to spel  
> -Are some of you reading my outlines?? Because y'all seem to know exactly where I'm going with this. Which I'm going to take as good foreshadowing on my part, and assume none of you broke into my apartment to read my sticky notes  
> -I want to apologize to the person who wanted to see Ms. Mason and the firefam meet... this was, unfortunately, always the route I was going with that character


	8. Messenger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have not edited!

TK is bouncing his leg hard enough that it’s shaking the entire car. He’s holding his phone over the center console, ringing on speakerphone. He swears when the ringing gives way to the automated voicemail message.

“Should I try again?” TK asks, he’s obviously not looking for a real answer, as he’s already hitting the button to call his dad again.

This time, by some miracle, Owen picks up the phone. He’s barely said hello before TK is talking over him. Carlos listens, waits for a chance to break in and explain things better, he has no doubt that TK is going to fuck it up.

“Dad, listen to me.” TK says, “We found a dead body, and it was definitely the queensguard who killed her.”

“You found a _what_?” Owen practically yells. “And who is we?”

“Me and Carlos,” TK answers, “And thats not the important part,”

Carlos decides that this is probably where he should step in.

“We found a threatening message that TK thinks may be referring to Judd’s wife, we need to know where she is, or how we can contact her. You also need to hear the message and tell us if our assumptions are correct. We can go over everything else later.” Carlos says, using what Michelle calls his ‘Officer voice’.

TK’s phone buzzes, and Carlos takes his eyes off the road just long enough to confirm that it’s TK’s dad sending Grace’s contact info.

They’re five minutes out from the location TK had given him for the Ryder residence, so Carlos elbows TK, tells him to repeat the message for his dad.

“Wé copodon þín foreboda.” TK relays the message to his dad. “We thought maybe the messenger could be Grace, as a dispatcher?” There’s a pause on the other side of the line, and Carlos really hopes that means Owen knows what it means.

“You may be right about Grace, but for the wrong reason.” Owen says, “Foreboda is an archaic term for sighted humans.”

“Do we know where Paul is?” TK asks, he’s counting on his hand, Carlos thinks he’s probably running through all of the sighted humans he can think of.

“Paul is here at the station, Carlos is with you.” Owen says, on the same train of thought, “I think that just leaves Grace unaccounted for.”

“Try to call Judd, we couldn’t reach him.” Carlos tells Owen, pulling onto a residential street much faster than 25mph that's legal, “We’re pulling up to their street now, we’ll let you know what we find.”

Carlos focuses on the house numbers while TK says goodbye to his dad. Blue house on the right was the description TK had given him earlier.

He spots the house, just as described. There’s a pickup truck in the driveway and a sedan parked on the street that Carlos pulls in behind, not bothering to actually park beyond pulling his car out of the middle of the road. He barely has the keys out of the ignition before swinging himself out of the car and around to the trunk.

He unlocks the gun safe, for once not thinking that it’s a little unnecessary to keep a gun in his car as well as his home. He slides a clip into the gun as he hurries towards the door, fingers moving with practices ease.

TK is already at the door when Carlos catches up.

“No one’s answering.” TK reports, bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet, and then knocking again.

Carlos nods, then peeks in one of the front windows, looking for motion. There’s nothing. It doesn’t help ease the worry sitting on his chest.

He moves towards the side of the house, not bothering to look if TK is following him. The backyard is even more uneventful than the front, with only a picnic table taking up space on the grass.

He peers through another window, finding himself looking into the other end of the same room. Still no movement, and apparently no one home. He’s not sure if thats a good or bad sign, but the cars still being in the driveway doesn’t bode well.

Carlos considers the pros and cons of breaking into the Ryder household. On one hand, if they are in trouble, breaking in may be necessary. On the other hand, there could be nothing wrong, and barging in with a gun is a sure fire way to get shot or arrested.

He doesn’t get a chance to make the decision, a loud crash from the front of the house makes it for him. He forces himself to maintain a working headspace as he runs around the side of the house, remain calm because there’s nothing you can do if you’re not.

Carlos raises his gun before turning the last corner, just as a precaution. There’s no telling what made the noise, but given the circumstances he feels justified in being cautious.

“It’s okay!” TK calls when Carlos enters the front yard, prompting Carlos to lower his gun slightly. He hasn’t yet cleared the scene, so it doesn’t go down all the way.

TK is standing in the driveway, a confused looking Judd on one side, and an equally confused looking woman who must be Grace on the other. No one appears to be hurt, nothing even appears to be out of place beyond the birdhouse that was previously on the porch railing now residing on the ground. Carlos lowers his gun the rest of the way before walking towards the driveway.

“What in the hell is going on, TK?” Judd is saying as Carlos approaches.

Carlos cuts in before TK can open his mouth, “We found a threat that we thought could possibly be directed at Grace.”

Judd goes stiff, looking warily down the street as if he might see a threat coming. He moves closer to his wife, tucking her against his large frame. Grace leans into the touch, letting Judd hold her for just a second before she moves towards the house, pulling Judd along by the hand.

“Why don’t we talk inside, I’ll make y’all some tea.” Grace says, smiling despite the tense situation.

Carlos stops her before she can open the door, glancing down at his gun before suggesting that he should clear the area before they enter. She nods, hands him the key.

A quick sweep of the kitchen and living room shows nothing obviously out of place. There are still dishes in the sink from that morning, but there aren’t any signs of a break in that Carlos can find.

“Clear.” He calls after sweeping the entire downstairs area, work habits die hard. Carlos thinks that the sweep may have been more to ease his own unease than anything else, as he waits for the Ryders and TK to meet him in the kitchen.

“Alright,” Judd says, once the others have entered the house, “Someone tell me exactly what happened.”

“It’s kind of a long story,” TK says, leaning against the kitchen counter next to Carlos.

“How about your boyfriend here explains,” Judd says, almost causing Carlos to choke on his own spit.

“We aren’t dating,” TK blurts out, flushing bright red.

“Why don’t we discuss that after y’all explain whats going on?” Grace cuts in, the voice of reason.

“We went by a family friend of mine’s house this morning, she was dead when we got there.” Carlos says.

“Branded by the queensguard.” TK interjects, with a pointed look at Judd. There has to be more to it than Carlos has been privy to.

“They had left a message on the wall, something about a messenger. We figured it might be Grace, as a dispatcher. Owen said it was an old term for sighted humans, and everyone else was accounted for.” Carlos finishes. Judd looks even more concerned, shifting so that he was in line to see the front door from where he stood.

“There are a couple words for messenger, which was it?” Grace asks, this time looking at TK instead of Carlos.

“Foreboda.” TK answers, “Why?”

Grace lets out a sigh of relief, and smiles at all of them. “It’s not talking about me.”

“How do you know?” TK asks, “My dad said that a foreboda was a sighted human, and you definitely fit the category.”

“I think your daddy needs his memory checked,” Grace says, then turns to her husband, “Fix some tea for your friends here.” She instructs, before moving into the living room.

Carlos turns to give Judd a questioning look, and judging by the way TK shifts next to him, he’s doing the same thing. Judd just shrugs, looking as confused as they are as he follows his wife’s instructions and puts a kettle on the stove.

Grace returns with a large book, bound in what Carlos would guess was old leather, and marked in words Carlos couldn’t read.

“Family heirloom,” Grace explains, setting the book gently on the counter next to TK.

“What, uh, what did my dad get wrong?” TK asks.

“Foreboda were messengers for the fae, had special training and equipment.” Grace says, flipping through the book.

“Were?” Carlos asks.

“Fell out of practice in the 1400s, when the fae postal service was invented.” Grace says, then pokes at the book, having found the page she was apparently looking for. “Had a few high profile foreboda in my family, but that word would not be used to refer to me.”

Tk leans his elbows on the counter, face only inches away from the book. “Who would they be talking about?”

“No idea.” Grace says.

Carlos leans over TK’s shoulder to look at the book, he can’t read any of the words so hopefully there are at least a few illustrations.

The book is obviously hand written, some sections faded with years and years of knowledge being passed down. There aren’t any actual illustrations on the page, but a small doodle in the lower lefthand corner catches Carlos’ eye.

It’s a drawing of a necklace, he thinks. The skill level of whoever had drawn it was about on par with his own, which is to say, not that skilled.

He points at the drawing, “What’s that?” He asks the room at large, any of the others could translate for him if there’s a caption.

Grace looks over TK’s other shoulder to where Carlos is pointing, “Bloodstone pendant.” She answers.

TK traces a section with his finger and reads aloud, “Bloodstone, given to servants of highest, uh, trust?” Grace nods to confirm his translation. “Thy walls are naught to the holder. Dude, the spellings are terrible.”

“Hey, this was written centuries before standardized spelling,” Grace chastises, then turns back to Carlos, “Bloodstones allow humans to pass through Fairie space without needing to be claimed.”

Carlos nods, still looking at the book he can’t read.

“Why would they even bother? Couldn’t they pass notes without using a human middleman?” Carlos asks, then jumps when the kettle starts to whistle.

Grace pulls it off the stove, and Judd moves into her spot to look at the book.

“Humans don’t need to follow fae rules, even in Fairie spaces.” Judd answers the question that Carlos had nearly forgotten about. “Y’all can pass through wardings that we can’t.”

Carlos hates having to ask for explanations for every little thing that gets thrown his way, but he has no idea what a warding is.

Grace seems to pick up that he doesn’t understand, before he can even open his mouth. She throws him a sympathetic look, and hands him a mug. “Magical barriers, to protect people or places. Fae can only step through them with an invitation from whoever cast the warding.”

“So a human with a bloodstone could go pretty much anywhere in Fairie?” Carlos confirms. He gets three nods in return. “No wonder they got rid of them…” He mumbles, more to himself than anyone else.

TK finally straightens up, finished with his investigation of the book. “This still doesn’t tell us what that message meant. ‘We stole your person who’s likely been dead since 1350’ makes no sense.” He frowns for a second, and then grins, “They stole a mummy!”

“No.” Judd and Grace say at the same time, both pointing a finger at TK like disappointed parents. Carlos is inclined to agree with them, stealing a mummy seems far fetched.

“Ok, fine, no mummies.” TK says, “Could there be any modern day foreboda?”

Grace shrugs, “If they could get their hands on a bloodstone, maybe.”

“What would a bloodstone look like?” Carlos asks, suddenly thinking of the many necklaces and pendants that had always hung from Ms. Mason’s neck.

“Dark green, with veins of red running through.” Grace answers, “You can find nonfae bloodstones pretty much anywhere.”

There had been a pedant, with a stone just like that, that Ms. Mason had always worn on a black chord. She’d let Carlos play with it when he was younger, let him wear it when they went to the grove. If that had been a bloodstone…

“If Ms. Mason had a bloodstone, and I think she might’ve,” Carlos looks at TK, “Could that message have been meant for someone else, someone Ms. Mason was working for? She always said she had fae friends.”

TK shakes his head slowly, “I don’t know… Maybe?”

“Your daddy isn’t the only person to piss off the queen.” Judd says, “There are lots of people to be involved with that could’ve gotten her killed.”

“We should go back, see if she had a bloodstone.” Carlos says, picking his gun up from the counter, where he’d pushed it towards the wall for safety.

TK and Judd look at each other, apologies clear on their faces.

“We have a shift in…” Judd checks his watch, “40 minutes.”

“I’ll go alone.” Carlos decides. He owes it to Ms. Mason.

—————-

Carlos leaves TK with Judd and Grace, to go back to the crime scene he had abandoned earlier in the morning. He hopes that an officer has already been sent to the house, that he won’t have to call it in for a second time.

Luck is on his side, for once, and there are two police cars sitting in front of Ms. Mason’s house when he pulls up. There's no ambulance though, which means he can still see Ms. Mason.

Maria, who sits four desks down from him, is at the door when he walks through the garden. He puts on his best confused face.

“Hey, I called in a welfare check here this morning.”

“Ah, shit.” She says, “That was you?”

He nods, makes sure he looks like he doesn’t know whats coming.

“It’s not good, but we don’t think foul play, despite the mess.” She says, then lifts the caution tape, letting him into the house.

There are two officers in the kitchen, he doesn’t know either of them by name, but they either recognize him or had heard Maria talking to him outside. They both step to the side, letting him get much closer to Ms. Mason than they should have.

For once, he’s glad that people don’t always follow protocol, that they let emotion dictate their actions instead of procedure.

Carlos crouches down next to Ms. Mason’s body, watching the other officers through the corner of his eye. He forces his breath to hitch, and mutter “Fuck,” just loud enough for them to hear his voice break purposefully in the middle of the word.

As intended, they both turn away, to give him a moment of privacy to grieve. He takes the moment to slide out his pocket knife, cut the chord as quietly as he can, trying to hide his actions behind his crouched body.

Carlos slips both the knife and the pendant into his pocket as he gets to his feet. The officers don’t meet his eye until he wipes his sleeve over his eye’s, exaggerating the movement for their benefit.

“You on shift today?” One of them asks.

“Yeah, two to midnight.” Carlos responds, not sure why he would ask.

“We can try to get you the preliminary report, when we get it done.” The officer, the name tag says Jones, says. Carlos has to fight against real tears this time.

He thanks Maria as he slips past her out the door, purposely avoiding looking at the door frame. He car is parked across the street, in front of his mom’s house, and as much as he intended to get in his car and drive away, he instead finds himself standing on the porch to his mom’s house, bloodstone weighting a metric ton in his front pocket.

“Mijo?” She looks concerned when she opens the door, “Not that I don’t love seeing you, but what’s… Oh.” She trails off, her gaze reaching the police cars parked outside of Ms. Mason’s.

“She, uh, died this morning.” Carlos says, and this time the tears in his eyes are very real, and he can’t hold them back. He wraps his arms around his mom, when she pulls him in for a hug.

They stand on the porch, door held open to the many mosquitos that are sure to now be in the house. In any other situation, Carlos thinks his mom would have smacked him for causing that many bugs in the house.

She finally pulls away and brushes the tears off Carlos’ cheeks, “Come inside, I’ll make you tea?”

He laughs, then rubs his own sleeve over his eyes, “Can I have coffee?” He tries his luck.

His mom gives his a disapproving glare, but nods, “Just this once.” She says, and leads him into the kitchen.

The kitchen table is buried in old paperwork and photos, Carlos picks up the photo nearest him. It’s old, older than he is, as it shows both his mom and dad, standing at the finish line of the Austin marathon.

“The last time your dad and I raced on the same day.” His mom says, glancing at the photograph. “That would’ve been, what? March ’91?” She mutters, more to herself.

“Can I keep this?” Carlos asks, tracing a finger over his dad’s face.

“Let me get a picture of it first.” His mom says, pouring a mug of coffee for him.

“I can get it scanned at work, better quality.” Carlos offers.

His mom smiles sadly at him, “I’d love that. Thank you, mijo. Now drink your death juice, how long before your shift?”

Carlos checks his watch, he has over two hours until his shift, but he still needs to go home and grab his uniform, and Austin traffic is unforgiving.

They sit in silence, Carlos looking through more pictures, of his childhood, of his sisters. He grabs a few more photos, of himself and his sisters at varying ages to take with him.

He says goodbye with a kiss on the cheek, and promises to send the digital copies of the photos as soon as he gets a chance to make them. His mom gives him a hug, tells him to be safe at work, tells him not to be such a stranger.

Carlos puts most of the photographs into the glovebox of his car, where they’ll be safe until he can make copies, but the photo of his parents, he props that one against the radio, where he can see it anytime he looks down.

—————

**Can I call?**

Carlos receives the text from TK as he’s walking out the door, he has ten minutes to get on the freeway or he’s going to be late.

Carlos doesn’t bother texting TK back, just calls and puts the phone on speaker as he reverses out of his driveway.

“Hey.” TK greets, “I only have a minute, but I got news.”

“There are like five different things you could have news about.” Carlos says, trying to figure out which is the most likely for TK to call him about.

“About how you got the sight.” TK says, “Dad talked to some people today, says he might know what’s going on.”

“And…” Carlos says, frustrated that TK won’t just give him the answer.

“And he didn’t tell me. Said we should all meet in person.” TK says, now sounding just as frustrated. “He wants to meet up tomorrow, if that works.”

“Yeah, uh, I’m free all day.” Carlos says. “We can’t do this today?”

“No,” TK blows out a breath, “He’s going golfing with _Billy_ today.”

Carlos laughs at TK’s obvious dislike of whoever this Billy is.

“Don’t laugh at me!” TK whines, “Billy’s a dick.”

“Mature.”

TK doesn’t get a chance to respond, an alarm blaring on his end of the phone.

“Gotta go, see ya later.” TK says, hurried and half muffled by TK running, presumably heading towards the truck.

The call disconnects before Carlos has a chance to say goodbye.

“See ya later.” He says to no one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you guys, so leave a comment if you want!


	9. Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not edited!
> 
> I'm probably going to switch to a once (possibly twice) a week updating schedule, with wednesday nights being the time you can expect an update.

Carlos is in the break room hiding from McCoy, whose neighbor is apparently right around Carlos’ age and had just come out as gay. At least McCoy is just annoying, rather than homophobic or an asshole. 

Whatever McCoy is, they haven’t gotten any actual work done in the nearly half hour that McCoy has dedicated to trying to enrich Carlos’ love life. The decision to escape the desk and get coffee had been easy.

Carlos’ phone rings, playing the stupid song Michelle had changed his ringtone to and he hadn’t figured out how to change back. Well, he just hasn’t cared enough to change it back, and it makes Michelle laugh when she hears it, over a year after she’d stolen his phone. He should probably call her soon.

Caller ID says that its TK, so Carlos answers the phone, despite being on shift.

“It’s been, what, six hours since we last talked?” Carlos asks TK.

“This is important,” TK says, sounding far too relaxed for it to actually be important. 

“Really?” Carlos asks, scrunching up his shoulder to hold his phone while he puts a bagel in the toaster. 

“Yup,” TK says, “Wanna go to a club with me tonight?”

“That is… so important.” Carlos sighs. 

“Hey, it totally is. Paul just got let down real hard, and I wanna take him out for the night.” TK says.

Carlos considers for a moment, not whether or not he’ll go, of course he will. But rather where they could go, he knows TK hasn’t explored the club scene in Austin, and Carlos has really only gone to gay bars and clubs. He has no clue if Paul would be comfortable with going to a gay club.

“I know a couple spots,” Carlos says, “But they’re all gay clubs, would Paul be cool?”

“He’s cool.” TK says, emphasizing the word as if there’s information that Carlos doesn’t know, “But I’ve already got a place in mind. Fae club down in the warehouse district.”

“Fae club?”

“Oh yeah. Just don’t drink anything there, and you’ll be just fine.” TK says, not answering Carlos’ actual question, which had been more along the line of ‘Wow, what is a fae club? And why do you guys have clubs?’, not that he had been expecting a real answer out of TK. 

Carlos decides its not worth it trying to get more info out of TK, “You need me to drive?” He asks, pulling his bagel out of the toaster before searching the fridge for his tub of cream cheese, hopefully no one has stolen it. For a building full of law enforcement officers, there was a whole lot of break room theft that goes on. 

“Nah, I can drive if you wanna drink.” TK says, “Going out with me comes with a complementary DD.” 

Carlos isn’t sure why it shocks him that TK would make a joke like that about his sobriety, the previous times it had come up, TK being sober seemed more fragile, something that shouldn’t be made light of. Maybe he’d misread the situation.

“Can I decide later?” He says, after a pause that was probably a beat too long. 

“Yeah, of course.” TK says, if he’d noticed Carlos’ hesitation, he doesn’t mention it, instead moving on to the topic of logistics for the night. 

Carlos sits at the lone table in the break room munching on his bagel, while TK lays out the timeline, the dress code and rules for the night: dress sexy, but not too sexy (don’t wanna give all the divorced pixies a show); don’t eat or drink anything inside the club, you can’t leave if you eat fairy food; don’t dance with anyone without skin; don’t puke on anyone, the fae have long memories.

“And you know that from experience?” Carlos asks, laughing a little at the thought.

“There are multiple fae clubs in New York I’m no longer welcome at.” TK says, “My late teens were not my best years.”

Carlos feels bad for having laughed, even if TK’s tone is still light. 

A knock on the window of the break room demands Carlos’ attention and he looks up to find McCoy waving a file folder at him. He checks his watch, finding that he’s gone well over his government mandated fifteen minute break.

“Hey, I gotta get back to work.” He tells TK, “I’ll change after work and then head over to the station, okay?”

“Sounds good!” TK says, “Have fun at work!”

“Uh, you too.” Carlos says. He doesn’t get a chance to say anything more intelligent, as TK hangs up the phone.

McCoy taps on the window again, this time louder, waving the file folder even more obnoxiously.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Carlos says, seriously considering flipping McCoy off as he tosses his paper plate.

————

Carlos barely has time to change and make his way to the fire station before the time TK had set for him, not with the extra stop TK had asked him to make. He may or may not break a couple traffic laws on his way, but that’s no ones business but his own.

TK is leaning against the wall when he pulls up, idly scrolling through his phone. He looks up as Carlos pulls his car into the drive, smiling brightly and waving. 

“Paul’s still inside, so we have time to set this up and look cool.” TK says once Carlos steps out of the car.

“Look cool?” Carlos asks, skeptical of what that might entail.

“I’m joking.” TK says, “Unless…”

Carlos groans, part of him thinks that TK’s dramatics are cute, the rest thinks that whatever TK has planned is gonna be stupid.

“Fine.” He says.

TK grins, and pulls Carlos over to lean against the car next to him, facing the exit of the station. 

“Cross your arms and look sexy,” TK says, then smirks, “Not that you have to do anything for that last part.”

Carlos doesn’t cross his arms, and he’s not entirely sure how to purposely look sexy, but he does let TK press against his side which seems to satisfy TK’s need for dramatics.

Paul exits the building not even minutes later, and judging by the look on Paul’s face, and the grin on TK’s, the ‘look cool’ plan seemed to have worked. 

“You’re going out with us.” TK tells Paul. Not a question, an order. Carlos moves around to the drivers side, anticipating that Paul will give in to TK.

“We’re not going bowling, are we?” Paul asks, sounding more resigned than excited.

“Nope.” TK says, “Rooster’s.”

That must be the name of the club, because Paul’s face lights up, now looking more than willing to get into Carlos’ car.

“You bring what I asked?” TK asks from the backseat, once they get settled into the car.

“Seat next to you.” Carlos replies, watching in the mirror as TK pulls the bottle of vodka out of the brown paper bag. He turns the car on, while watching TK handle the bottle casually. He feels guilty for watching, he knows TK doesn’t need a babysitter around substances. Carlos doesn’t even know the whole situation, and frankly it’s none of his business in the first place. 

TK hands the bottle to Paul before looking into the bag again, this time pulling out a bottle of pineapple juice, which also gets handed to Paul. TK catches Carlos’ eyes in the rearview mirror, gives him a soft smile. They don’t break eye contact until Carlos has to take the car out of reverse, turn onto the main road. 

“You drinking tonight?” Paul asks, directing the comment to Carlos only. “You have to be old enough, right?”

“Haven’t decided if I trust TK to drive my car yet.” Carlos jokes, instead of an actual answer, “And I was born in April ‘91, I’m more than old enough.” 

He’s not sure if TK would really want to babysit two drunk people, and isn’t sure he wants to put TK in that situation. Just in case it would put TK in a bad spot.

“I’m a good driver.” TK pouts from the back seat.

“I literally don’t know if you know how to read speed limit signs.” Carlos replies, remembering the last time he’d been a passenger in a car that TK was driving.

“In my defense, most of my experience driving is in a firetruck, where we are encouraged to ignore speed limits.” TK says. Carlos glances at the mirror again, catches the smile that TK is directing towards the back of his head.

“Get going.” TK says, turning and poking at Paul’s shoulder, “You can’t drink once we get there.” 

“You want me to drink in a car that a cop is driving?” Paul asks, but he doesn’t seem to actually care that much, as he cracks open both bottles. “Got a cup for me? Or we doing this the old fashioned way?”

There are zero cups between the three bags they have in the car, and TK can’t find a suitable replacement in time, so Paul drinks straight from the bottle. God, this would look so bad if one of Carlos’ coworkers pulled him over right now. 

Somehow, they make it to the warehouse district without any incidents. Carlos parks his car behind a decrepit warehouse that he’s not entirely comfortable leaving his car near. But, he more or less trusts TK not to lead them astray, so he gets out and pulls his seat forward to let TK out of the car.

“Alright, drink now or forever hold your peace.” TK says, perching himself on the trunk of the car and pulling one knee up to his chest.

Paul takes another mouth full of the vodka and makes a face, immediately taking a sip of the juice afterwards. He hands both bottles to Carlos.

“Seriously, you can drink if you want.” TK says, then quieter, “It doesn’t bother me at all to be around drinking, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Carlos raises his eyebrows in a silent ‘You sure?’, and then takes a shot of vodka straight from the bottle when TK laughs and nods at him.

It’s been a few years since he’s had bottom shelf vodka straight, and it hasn’t gotten any better since then. The burn in the back of his throat that flows down to his stomach is so much worse than he remembers, and he has to take a gulp of the pineapple juice almost immediately.

“Nasty, huh?” Paul says, laughing in a loose manor that suggests he’s already feeling the effects of the vodka. 

“That’s disgusting.” Carlos says, trying not to gag visibly, “Now I remember why I switched to beer and wine after college.” 

Carlos takes one more swig from the bottle, enough to get him slightly tipsy but nothing more. “Where’s the cap?” He asks, handing the bottle back off to Paul who digs the caps out of his pocket. 

TK slides off the trunk of the car and holds a hand out to Carlos, “Gimme your keys.” 

Carlos hands them over without hesitation, from a law enforcement point of view, it’s always better for the sober person to hold the keys. TK pops the trunk, then holds his hand out again. 

“Hand me the bottle, don’t want that in plain sight.” He says, and Paul hands it over to be shut away in the trunk.

“We ready to go?” Carlos asks. He’s curious what a fae club will be like, he has a feeling it will be slightly crazier than what Austin usually has to offer.

“Almost,” TK says, pulling his pocket knife out his pocket.

Carlos groans, “Really?” He’d forgotten about the unsanitary safety measure.

TK grins, slicing a small line on his thumb, “Oh yeah. Now come here, you big baby.” 

Carlos decides not to put up a fight this time, instead choosing to just glare while TK smears blood on the side of his neck again, before moving on to Paul, who truly doesn’t look bothered about having someone else’s blood wiped on him. It doesn’t seem like something Carlos will ever get used to, but apparently Paul had.

“Alright, remember: Stay with me, don’t get in any fights, and don’t eat or drink anything.” TK says, grabbing Carlos’ hand on one side, and Paul’s on the other. Carlos thinks he should probably be a little upset that his date— well, possibly his date— is holding hands with someone else, but it’s probably necessary to get them into the club. 

TK pulls them around the back of the warehouse, where weeds have completely taken over the ground, and vines have climbed the building two persons tall. The shadows blend into the vines, leaving some areas that can only be inches deep to look like miles of darkness leading into the warehouse wall.

TK steps up to the middle of the wall, where the vines are the thickest, still holding onto both Carlos and Paul who stand just behind his shoulders. It reminds Carlos of bodyguards, flanking someone of importance.

“Don’t talk.” TK whispers, looking over his shoulder to give Carlos a warning look. Paul must already be aware of this rule, because TK doesn’t turn to remind him. 

The shadows in the vines are moving, slowly enough that Carlos hadn’t noticed at first, congealing together to form a black abyss that looks as endless as the shadows had separately. TK squeezes at Carlos’ hand, then steps forwards towards the dark form, now big enough to comfortable fit a grown man.

TK is only inches away from the shadow, that should rest on the wall of the warehouse, but Carlos has a feeling it goes much deeper than that. ThenTK steps forward, the shadows crawling forward to meet him, pulling at his shoulders and arms, and pulling at Carlos and Paul when it reaches them.

Carlos braces himself, expecting cold to go with the endless darkness. Neither come.

Instead, it’s a wave of warmth that flows through his body, starting with the hand clasped in TK’s, and washing over him in a single wave that feels like coming home. 

The shadow releases them as quickly as it had grabbed them, receding first from Carlos’ hand, and then washing away to reveal flashing neon lights and soft glowing orbs. The silence of the warehouse district rinses away with the shadow, fading out to a strong drumbeat not out of place in a club. He pulls his eyes away from the clashing colorful lights that form the ceiling and walls, to find TK grinning at him.

“That was different from the grove,” Carlos says, raising his voice to be heard over the music, “Why was that so different?”

“A holt is a Fairy space on earth, this is in the Fairie dimension.” TK yells back, fighting to be heard as the pace and volume of the music increases. Carlos can’t be sure, but the beat is mirroring his heart rate, or possibly it’s the other way around.

TK finally releases Carlos’ hand, only to instead slip his arm around Carlos’ waist. He grins up at Carlos, and hooks his hand onto the belt loop of his jeans. Carlos settles his now free hand around TK’s shoulders, and lets himself be lead towards the crowd of people— no, the crowd of fae, no one here looks human.

The vodka he’d had before entering mixes with the hypnotic light display, leaving him feeling more intoxicated than he actually is. Carlos lets the feeling wash over him, losing himself in the music and lights, in the middle of a crowd where he can’t even distinguish the limbs of one person from the next. The only constant is TK beside him, arm wrapped around his waist as they move with the music, or possibly the music is moving with them. Carlos can’t tell, and he doesn’t really care either.

The fae that surround them are just as diverse as the lights that flash above their heads, every color imaginable in present in hair, and dress, and skin. Some reflect the light, like TK, casting rainbow prisms of light in every direction. Others seem to absorb the light, individual black holes using the light and energy surrounding them. Carlos shies away from those people, leaning in closer to TK when limbs brush too close.

The music changes frequently and unpredictably, matching emotions settled so deep in Carlos’ chest, he’s not sure he would have been aware of them otherwise. He wonders if the music he hears is the same as what others are hearing. The couple to their right who are slow dancing seems to suggest not. The music washes away that train of thought before Carlos can fully comprehend it, and he gives in, letting the lights and music pull him away.

He could stay here forever, where the music moves in and around him. He could dance forever.

A hand on his jaw pulls his eyes away from the lights, pulls him back down to himself.

“Hey.” TK is right in front of him, smiling gently, “I think the music is getting to you, babe.” 

“What?” Carlos mumbles, letting himself be dragged out of the crowd. There are more hands than he can count on his waist, his shoulder, his hand.

His head clears more and more, the further away from the crowd they get, Carlos finds himself pulled out of the main room. Like an eddy on a river, the music flows past them, instead of pulling them into the current of the tempo.

TK is still standing in front of Carlos, but now he notices that Paul is standing besides him, responsible for the hand on his back. 

“What was that?” He asks, shaking the music out of his head like water. 

“The myths about fairies causing people to dance to death may or may not be true.” Paul says. “Its hard to resist the music the first time you come here.”

“Fuck,” Carlos says, now fully aware of his surroundings. Embarrassment is staining his cheeks pink, even if he knows logically that he didn’t do anything wrong.

“The music effects everyone,” TK says, “First time I went to a fae club, my friend had to drag me out, quite literally.”

That makes Carlos feel slightly better, that he’s not the only one to be trapped by the music, unable to form any thoughts beyond what the drum and chorus force onto you. 

“How long have we been here?” Paul asks, to no one in particular. Carlos glances at his watch, only to find that the second hand is moving backwards, while the minute hand lurches forward unevenly.

TK places a hand over his watch, “Time doesn’t work the same way here, watches and cellphones don’t really work. But we’ve been here for a while, probably a couple hours?” The last part is a question, as if TK can really only guess at the passing of time.

Away from the music and lights, Carlos feels sober, so they’ve been there at least long enough for his body to process through the two shots of vodka he’d had. 

“You wanna dance more?” TK asks, looking between both Carlos and Paul, “Or do we wanna head out?”

Carlos shrugs, leaving it up to Paul to decide. They’d gone out for Paul in the first place, it should be up to him to decide when they leave.

“We can head out,” Paul says, “I already got enough phone numbers for one night.” He reaches into his pocket a pulls out a couple slips of paper, phone numbers written in various colors of ink.

TK whoops, shoving at Pauls shoulder with a congratulatory grin. He grabs Carlos’ hand, and Carlos is sure that he has Paul’s hand on the other side, and leads the three out them towards the side of the club they’d come in from.

The path out of the club looks much the same as the path to get in, but there are no vines to hide the shadows on the walls on this side, they swirl across the rocks untamed until TK approaches.

The shadows sort themselves into another opening, this one slightly narrower than the first, which leads Paul to let go of TK’s hand and grab Carlos’ instead, forming a single file line. 

The shadows claim TK first, before moving onto Carlos, and he feels the moment that the shadows slip from his hand onto Paul’s. Carlos tightens his grip on Paul instinctively, but the shadows aren’t there to pull them apart, merely to deliver them back to the human world. 

The shadows fall away from Carlos, leaving him shivering slightly, feeling the loss of the warmth and music of the Fairie realm. It leaves a hollow feeling in his chest, that fades slower than the shivering.

The area behind the warehouse is as dark as when they left, which means too much time can’t have passed. Carlos follows TK, hands still woven together, back to his car.

“So, how’d you like it?” TK asks, unlocking the car.

“That was…” Carlos fumbles for a word to describe the club. “Out of this world.”

“Literally.” Paul jokes, climbing into the back seat. 

Carlos pulls his seat back upright so he can get in the car, while TK settles into the drivers seat. TK is frowning at his phone, one hand on the key that’s already in the transmission.

“What’s wrong?” Paul asks, before Carlos can question TK, also picking up on TK’s worried expression.

“Bunch of calls from my dad.” TK says, swiping through the notifications, “Sorry, I gotta call him back.”

Carlos shakes his head to show TK it’s no problem, while TK raises his phone to his ear. 

He lowers it again after a second, “Sent me to voicemail.” 

“Did your dad leave a message?” Carlos asks, anxiety rising in his chest to match the anxious tone in TK’s voice.

TK nods, and holds his phone to his ear again, presumably to listen to whatever message his dad had left.

Carlos can hear Owen’s voice coming from the phone, but he can’t make out the words or the tone. The growing frown on TK’s face doesn’t indicate anything good.

“Says we need to talk, now.” TK relays, “Sounded pretty urgent.”

TK tosses his phone onto Carlos’ lap, and finishes starting the car. “Can you try calling him again?” He asks, pulling the car out from between the warehouses, and back onto a road.

Carlos gets sent to voicemail twice, once from TK’s phone and once from his own. 

“Did you look through the texts he sent?” Carlos asks, after being sent to voicemail for a third time.

“No.” TK says shortly, “Can you look at them?”

It takes Carlos a minute to find the messages app on TK’s phone, but when he locates it, there’s a little red 23, indicating that someone really wanted to contact TK.

The majority of the messages are from Owen, and Carlos only wastes a second feeling guilty about reading through their text thread, TK had given him permission. 

Most of the messages say the same thing, just variations of ‘Call me TK’, and ‘It’s urgent’, or vague threats if TK doesn’t respond soon. There are two messages near the top of the block of texts that catch Carlos’ attention.

“Hey, listen to this,” Carlos says, before reading the messages out loud, “Your dad said ‘Have information about Carlos and his friend who was killed. Need to talk to both of you right now.’ And then a few minutes later he said ‘The group responsible for that woman might put you both in danger, call me now.’”

“So we need to talk, we might be in danger, and he won’t answer his damn phone?” TK says, trying to sound mad, but only sounding worried.

“He’s at your house,” Paul cuts in from the backseat, “At least, according to snapchat, he was there thirty minutes ago.”

TK is absolutely not following speed limits at this point, but Carlos can’t find it in him to be upset about it at all. Instead, he sits with the anxiety in his chest, watching the traffic flow around them as TK pushes the car through slots that it shouldn’t necessarily fit through.

————

The house that TK and his dad share is dark when they approach the front door. Carlos and TK had sprinted out of the car, leaving Paul to extricate himself from the backseat, while they check the house.

The front door is unlocked when TK tries the doorknob, and suddenly Carlos is wishing that he’d taken the few seconds to pull his gun out of the safe in the trunk. But he hadn’t, leaving his defenseless. 

TK runs through the front room, leaving Carlos to turn on the lights, take a closer look. Nothing appears to be wrong, but he hasn’t been here before, so he can’t tell for certain. The door opens behind him, and he whirls around. It’s only Paul, hands above his shoulders.

“Find anything?” Paul asks, voice low.

Carlos shakes his head, and sets off towards the kitchen where TK had disappeared, motioning for Paul to follow him. They find nothing in the kitchen, no sign of Owen, and now no sign of TK as well.

Carlos curses internally, weighing the risks of alerting anyone one who’s not supposed to be there with the need to find TK. Finding TK wins out, finding TK would always win out.

“TK.” Carlos calls, wincing at how loud his voice sounds echoing through the silent house, despite his low volume. 

The only response to his call is a hollow thud from upstairs that sends Carlos’ heartbeat high in his throat. He glances at Paul, whose concerned expression must match Carlos’ own. The eye contact only lasts a second, before they both unfreeze, sprinting up the stairs to investigate. 

Carlos turns the corner first, finds TK on his knees, bent low over a body laying prone on the floor. Carlos doesn’t need to look closer to know it’s Owen.

Paul slips past Carlos, kneeling on the other side of Owen’s body pressing fingers against the pulse point in his neck. Carlos sees the moment Paul finds a pulse, the relief washing over him like a string of tension being cut. 

“He’s alive.” Paul reports, even if they all already know that. 

TK hasn’t moved since they entered the room, doesn’t even react when Carlos kneels next to him, puts a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t react at all until Carlos pulls TK’s face towards his own, forcing his gaze away from his dad, and onto Carlos. 

The grief that Carlos had been expecting to see in TK’s face is absent, in its place is a cold fury. It doesn’t fit TK, all that unplaced rage, and TK seems to agree as he visibly swallows down his anger, locks it in the tight muscles of his jaw and neck. 

“Help me put him on the bed.” TK says finally, voice tight and low.

They lift together, supporting as much of the Captain as possible. TK takes his shoulders, lifting gently, and smooths back his fathers hair once they get him laid down on the bed.

“Step back.” TK says, still sitting on the side of the bed. It’s obviously a warning, though Carlos doesn’t know for what.

Paul seems to have some idea of whats to come, if the hand he presses into Carlos’ chest to force him back a step is anything to go by. Carlos takes another step back on his own, watching TK carefully.

Carlos startles when TK slams his hands against the mattress. The bright white light that flows from the point of contact across the bed is blinding, and Carlos has to raise an arm across his eyes. 

When he lowers the arm, the initial light is gone, replaced by a shimmering blue that swims like electricity across the surface of the mattress, hugging Owen’s body. Protecting Owen’s body, Carlos realizes. Warding, if he had to take a guess.

TK stands up, still not taking his eyes off his father. “Call the others.” He says, to no one in particular. 

Neither Carlos nor Paul move, which just seems to feed into TK’s anger, as he slams a hand against the wall before turning back to face them.

“You know what this means, right?” TK says, finally looking them in the face, his eyes as stony as ever, but for the first time Carlos has seen, as cold as the gemstone they resemble. “This is a declaration of war.”

“TK…” Carlos tries to say something, even if he has no clue what he was going to say. Paul puts a hand on Carlos’ shoulder, silently telling him to back out of it.

“Where are we meeting?” Paul asks.

“Martie’s.” Carlos cuts in, “Neutral ground.” The 126 may be as well, but who knows if that’s still safe, if whoever did this was able to get to Owen at his own house.

TK nods tightly at the suggestion, moving towards the stairs as Paul pulls out his phone and starts dialing. Carlos scrambles to follow after TK, having to jog to match TK’s furious pace.

TK doesn’t turn to look at Carlos until they reach the bottom of the stairs, when he whips around, letting Carlos see the angry tears forming in his eyes.

“I’m going to kill her.” TK promises voice cracking.

“Who?” Carlos asks, voice gentle. He has a sinking feeling he already knows who. 

“I’m going to kill the queen.” TK snarls, finally letting the tears fall.

Carlos catches TK when he stumbles forward, pressing his face into Carlos’ neck. It only lasts a moment, but Carlos thinks this may be the calm before the storm, standing here at the bottom of the stairs, where he’s the only thing holding TK together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you guys!
> 
> Somes notes:  
> -It was brought to my attention that Michelle isn't really in this story and that that doesn't really make sense.... I kinda forgot about her, quite honestly. I will work on rectifying that, but it might not happen until the sequel, because shit will be crazy from here on out in this story.  
> -There are a couple small discrepancies in the story that are there are purpose, and will give you some big clues, so watch out for those!!


	10. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not edited!
> 
> This chapter doesn't actually include any of the lonestar characters, but its super important for the plot and setting up the next few story arcs!!!!

It isn’t unusual for fae to lose track of their age, if they even subscribe to the notion. Counting years, or minutes, it’s such a human concept. Humans barely understand time, and yet they have measures for it. Time is an estimate at best in most areas of Fairie, moving faster or slower on a whim, so most fae don’t even bother with it.

Even if she had any desire to count the time since her birth, there are few who’s memories stretch that far. A problem for the human philosophers, she thinks, did a life exist if there are none to remember? If so, there are plenty who have lived only to her.

She is older than nearly all, older than most human civilizations. She was there when the seeds of the courts were planted, and she has watched over the throne since then. There have been so many who have sat upon the throne, some good, some bad. 

She’s never seen this before.

The throne is dying, and with it, the court. 

Some plants do well watered in blood, but the throne does not. So she watches, day by day, as the throne dies. It had started at the roots, the day that allegiance changed, a small rot that had spread and spread. Twenty-six human years of rot is not good for any tree, and the tree that holds fae society in its branches is no different. 

Perhaps, she thinks, it’s not the blood that the tree doesn’t like, but the type of blood. 

After all, the tree was sown in the blood of the first seelie queen’s sacrifice. She had laid down her life for her people, and from her body the tree had grown. It was the queen’s daughter who had taken the tree and shaped it into a throne, lead their people to peace for the first time in thousands of years. 

But the blood that had been spilled on that night had not been of sacrifice, it had been murder. Scores of fae cut down in the throne room, so that the tree’s loyalty could be swayed by force. Murder set about by the birth of an innocent child.

The throne had always been passed down, mother to daughter, mother to son, and so on for generations. It had always sat within the same blood line, descended from the original sacrifice, the original court. 

And now? Now a stranger sits within the inner branches of their society. No right to the throne by blood or honor. 

The queen (the usurper), she knows she has no right to throne. She sits on her stolen platform, and she plots. There are two that have a bloodright to the throne. There are three that the queen wants dead or gone.

See, the queen holds two thrones and two courts, and she wants to continue both reigns. 

————

“You wanted to see me?” She says, approaching the queen (the usurper) with her head held high, she will give no signs of respect to a false monarch. The heady perfume in the room barely conceals the rot.

“Owen Strand is still alive.” The queen says, not bothering to greet someone she sees as beneath her station (that’s her second mistake).

It’s not the first time that she has seen the queen send assassins after the Strands, and it’s not the first time she has seen the queen’s plots fail. 

“Yes.” She replies, there is no point in saying more. The queen knows where her loyalties lay. 

“The boy is plotting my demise, surely.” The queen says, haughty and self assured (the third mistake). But, the queen wouldn’t have brought it up if it wasn’t cause for worry.

“You have taken from him his birthright, and a life he could have had.” She says, both an answer and not an answer. If the boy is looking to reclaim his seat, it would be a cause for celebration.

“He is half human, he has no right to either.” The queen spits out the word human. There are very few who hate humans more than the queen, a funny sort of irony she thinks, considering how much the queen meddles within the human world; how much the queen has put into the human world (this had been her first mistake).

“He has more right to the throne than you.” She says, she is not afraid of the queen, nor her guard. They cannot touch her, but she cannot touch them either.

The queen does not reply, just sits in blinding white gemstone cloths, swaddled in decadence, on a throne that rots beneath her.

If the boy decides to attack, he would have the support of the fae. He would certainly have her support, for whatever it is worth.

The queen clears her throat, looks down her nose, “I did not call you here to tell you that Owen Strand is still alive. You already knew that.” 

She nods. She had known before the queen that the plot had failed.

“No, Owen Strand may not be dead, but your messenger?” The queen laughs lightly, as if preparing the punchline to a dinner-party joke. “We were able to find her.”

Another nod, more information that she already knew. 

“She served us loyally.” She says, “And she died a warriors death.”

It was a tragedy, a life lost before its time. But the human had served her purpose, had held their secrets to the grave. When it’s over, they will bury her where she belongs, in the grove where she had served.

“This is not the victory you think it is.” She tells the queen. “You have found nothing of what she kept safe, and you will not.”

The queen is as beautiful when infuriated as she is calm. The whites of her gown sully to grey, mirroring the impure rage that the cloth tries to hide.

That type of rot is hard to conceal for long.

“You will not succeed.” The queen hisses, rising up from the branches. “Whatever you have that you think can destroy me, you are deceiving yourselves.”

“On the contrary, we are already winning.” She replies, backing out of the chamber to take her leave, “Best watch out, your majesty, the Strand boy is coming. Prepare.”

She doesn’t mention the other boy. The queen doesn’t need to know how badly she has fallen, how her mistakes will catch up with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you guys, even though I don't always respond, I read every comment and they make me so happy!!


	11. Pick Up the Crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back on my bullshit folks.
> 
> Still not edited, and frankly never will be.

The car isn’t exactly quiet, with the constant stream of dial tones and hushed conversations from the backseat, where Paul is calling what seems like everyone from the 126, but Carlos can only focus on the determined silence coming from TK in the passenger seat.

TK had initially tried to argue that he should be the one to drive, since Carlos had been drinking earlier, but it’s been hours since then, and TK driving right now would probably be more dangerous than Carlos.

“How are you doing?” Carlos asks, keeping his voice low, as if that will give them any privacy in the car. 

“I’m fine.” TK replies, not moving his eyes off of the horizon.

Carlos wants to press the issue, make TK admit that he’s not fine, that no one would be fine if put in the same situation, but he gets the feeling that TK needs to hold onto his last semblance of being okay, or there will be a repeat of the breakdown on the stairs. 

But he doesn’t say anything, he just lets TK retreat into his head against his better judgement. 

Carlos pulls the car onto the freeway, with TK lost in his own world, and Paul making plans for something that Carlos isn’t sure he wants a part in. 

He doesn’t think he has a choice anymore, no matter where he’d been two weeks ago, he is now so entangled with TK and his world (Carlos’ world now), that he couldn’t escape if he wanted to. Whatever happens next, Carlos will be at the center, orbiting close to the bright burning sun that TK is, in the center of his own universe.

——-

The parking lot is mostly empty when Carlos pulls into a spot near the entrance, the only other car present is the beater he recognizes as Martie’s. Probably good that there won’t be any random humans in the diner while they try to talk.

Carlos pulls his keys out of the ignition, glancing over to the passenger seat again. TK doesn’t make any move to exit the car until Paul lays a hand on his shoulder.

“The others will be here soon,” Pauls says, voice quiet. “We should probably get inside.”

This snaps TK out of whatever daze he’s been existing in since they left the house he shares with his father.

TK undoes his seatbelt with more force than strictly necessary, “Yeah,” He murmurs, “We should… we should go.” He shoves himself out of the car with the same restless energy, slamming the door behind him.

By the time that Carlos gets out of the car and pushes his seat forward to let Paul out as well, TK is already shoving his way into the diner, flipping the sign on the window to CLOSED as he goes. Carlos doesn’t think that Martie will like someone else closing her diner for her. 

She’ll get over it. Hopefully.

The two fae are standing at the counter, glaring at each other when Carlos and Paul manage to catch up. 

“It’s an emergency.” TK is saying, face as cold and frozen as the opal his skin is made out of. His heels are barely touching the cracked linoleum, ready to let his momentum push him forward at the blink of an eye.

Carlos decides to intervene before TK can dig himself into an even bigger hole. He pushes past TK, one hand held up to Martie apologetically, the other pushing TK towards Paul, “Owen Strand was attacked.” He says, words rushed.

“Well fuck. How bad are we talking?” Martie asks. She lets the menus she’s been holding fall to the counter. 

“He’s not dead.” TK replies from behind Carlos, voice as hard as steel, “But by our laws, I’m in charge now.”

Carlos spins around, somehow (despite the fact that he knew) he’d never truly thought about the fact that TK was (rightfully) the next in line for a throne that Carlos could barely comprehend.

Martie nods and unties the knot that holds her apron on. She folds the fabric as she rounds the corner of the counter, coming to a stop in front of TK.

The air in the diner is charged, the way lightning announces itself before it strikes.

“I will stand behind you.” She says, extending her left hand to TK, “And I will fight beside you.”

TK takes her hand in his, turns them both to the side roughly.

The significance isn’t lost on Carlos, even if the meaning is. He’s watching the start of something he doesn’t understand, and though his mind hasn’t caught up yet, there’s a feeling in his chest. 

It’s the start of battle in an action movie, the swell of a concerto played by a full orchestra, the grief of death and the sweetness of an engagement. He has no way to mark the occasion, but he’s standing a foot away from history and there’s no backing down from this.

“Now, let’s get to work, bearn.” Martie says, extricating her hand to pat TK’s cheek in a motherly fashion so unlike that declaration of allegiance that she had just made.

TK nods, looking more and more sure of himself as the seconds tick by. “Can you protect the diner?” He asks, looking at the fifteen feet of windows that do little to shield them from the outside world. A dark parking lot looks much more terrifying when Carlos thinks about what he now knows to be out there.  
“Stand back.” Martie says instead of responding, moving herself to the center of the near empty dining room, searching the floor for something that Carlos couldn’t identify if he tried.

She tosses her waterfall of hair over her shoulder, sending droplets of water flying. Three more small steps, until she finds whatever it is and drops down to one knee. Her eyes are closed, from the side profile that Carlos can see, her hands pressed together at her sternum.

Carlos glances over at Paul, questions nearly falling from his lips. But the questions never fall, because a crack of thunder and a flash light that dwarfs anything Carlos has experienced before rips from the center of the room, he feels both reverberate in his chest as they expand.

Except, they don’t just expand. The light and the noise encompass everything in their path, crashing through Carlos’ chest and leaving a sense of calm in their wake.

When the noise stops echoing through the room, Carlos finds himself opening his eyes (when had he even closed them?), at first glance nothing has changed, the cracked tiles and the ancient booths are exactly as they’d been before. Then he glances past the old leather, out the windows he had previously been staring through.

He can’t stare out the windows any longer, the long tendrils of what have to be lightning preventing him from looking out (and presumably anyone else from from looking in).

“Holy fucking shit…” 

Carlos doesn’t even realize that it was him who had spoken until Martie rises from the floor, a warm smile on her and the quiet admonition of “Language, bearn.” On her lips.

———————

By the time the rest of the 126 shows up to the diner, let in one by one by Martie (the shower of sparks that were released from the wardings as Martie tore a small hole for each person to slip through had scared the crap out of Carlos the first time), it had started raining outside, though you wouldn’t notice for how little Carlos could see past the wards.

Paul must’ve given them some sort of information about what had happened, as no one rushes TK when they show up, instead giving him quiet hugs and even quieter distance. 

Marjan is the last to slip through the torn hole in the warding, and she stops to help Martie reseal the hole behind her, adding a streak of light brown energy that swirls around the boundary next to Martie’s lightning that resembles the foam at the bottom of a waterfall the more that Carlos stares at it.

His attention is brought back to the other side of the room, where TK is sitting on the counter, when TK clears his throat loudly. He’s hunched where he sits, eyes on the floor rather than looking at those gathered before him.

“So, uh,” TK starts, as ineloquent as ever, “I think Paul told you guys what happened?”

He phrases it as a question, even as his shoulders straighten under the combined attention of his friends, his family. There are nods and quiet noises of assent, but no one speaks.

The room goes quiet again, until Grace looks up, meets TK eyes and forces his gaze to match hers until he’s staring straight ahead.

“And what are we going to do about it?” She asks.

TK doesn’t back down, he shoulders remain broad, his gaze remains high, head held straight and proud.

“I’m going to take back the throne.” 

He looks like a ruler. And Carlos would follow him to the edge of this earth (and through as many others as TK asked him too.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it! Lemme know what you think!!
> 
> Updates are probably going to be pretty slow (I'm working two jobs- one in healthcare, and going to school fulltime) but I WILL finish this.


	12. Battle Plans, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im back! Bet yall thought you'd seen the last of me.
> 
> As per usual, this is completely unedited.
> 
> I'm trying out a new style with this chapter with switching between a static scene and then showing how it's going for them, so let me know if it works or doesn't work.

The plan forms in the protected recess of Martie’s diner.

It falls apart as easily as it came together, but there are no protections in the dark, and there’s no one who knows where to find their bodies.

Hot tears burn in Carlos’ eyes as he struggles against the lightning cage holding him in place, far away from TK, far away from the Unseelie Queen.

His thoughts drift, carrying him from the dark hellhole he’s fallen into and back to his childhood kitchen, to Ms. Mason’s garden, to the _beorhstede holt_. He closes his eyes.

His mother won’t get to bury him.

———

TK sits on the counter as he holds court over Martie’s diner, as confident as any leader who’s never lead before.

Carlos sits in one of the booths, nestled in next to Judd and Grace as they realize that no one actually knows how to plan an attack. Can’t just hold a gun to the Unseelie Queen and yell ‘Stop! This is the police!’

So really, it’s a saving grace when Martie calls her wife down from the small apartment above the diner and tells them to all shut up and listen.

Lonna is a terrifying woman (do Fae even follow human genders? Carlos makes a mental note to ask someone who isn’t TK later), and it’s easy to picture her fighting her way out of any situation that may need it.

However, it doesn’t seem like Lonna holds the same opinion of their little group in return.

“So this is what we’re working with?” She asks, eyes jumping from one member of the 126 to another. “A bunch of children and a couple humans?”

Judd raises his hand tentatively, “Well now, not all children.” He drawls.

Grace pushes his hand down gently, “You turned 41 three months ago, it’s easy to make that mistake.”

Lonna looks unimpressed.

Carlos probably looks confused. Until just now, he’d been under the impression that they were all adults. He pushes the thought out of his mind, another question for the future.

“So is there any plan at all, or were you just going to wing it?”

The last part of the question is directed at TK, who has the sense to look down at the floor like a chastised kid.

Lonna softens her gaze and puts a hand on TK’s shoulder, “It’s alright _bearn_ , I’ve been planning shit like this since your grandfather was on the throne.”

Lonna turns back to address the rest of them, hands clasped behind her back. “So, let’s start at the beginning.”

Carlos straightens his back, reacting instinctively to the orders of a superior.

“One of our resident humans will need to find us an entrance.” Lonna says, glancing over to the booth where Carlos and Grace are sitting opposite Paul. “These entrances will be warded, hindering our ability find them, but it won’t stop y’all.”

Carlos nearly chokes on his own spit, there’s something not quite right about an ancient, powerful, _not-human_ having a Texan accent.

“Issue?” Lonna asks, meeting his eyes for what he realizes is the first time this evening.

“No ma’am, I’m just…” Carlos searches for the right word, “Adjusting?”

“Well, then let’s continue.”

———-

Carlos stumbles on a slick rock, mentally cursing whoever thought that a lakeside was a good place to hide an entrance to Faerie.

“Hey there,” Paul says, removing the hand he’d thrown against Carlos’ chest to stop the fall.

“I’m good.” Carlos assures.

It’s the sixth place they’d checked in as many hours, and frankly Carlos is pissed that the correct entrance couldn’t have been in the build-a-bear workshop that they’d checked first. They could’ve gone into battle surrounded by fluffy, cute stuffed animals, but apparently the universe hates them.

“Check over by that dock, I’ll check the grove around the side.” Paul says, already moving towards the aforementioned trees.

The dock seems normal enough, just a basic boardwalk of wood and metal halfway out of the water with the dry season they’d been having. The shadows that Carlos can see don’t appear to move or sway the way they had at the club entrance, and there’s no telltale electric prickle that he’d come to associate with Fae wardings.

He plants his hands on the side of the docks and swings his legs up, he doesn’t time it completely right and ends up with one leg on the dock and his chest pressed uncomfortably into the metal siding. God, he’s glad that Paul is looking in the opposite direction.

The air changes the second he gets onto the dock, static causing the hair on his arms to stand straight up.

“Paul!” He yells, “Think I found something.”

He makes his way to the end of the dock, the water seems miles away from up here, though he assumes that when the lake is full he could sit on the end with his feet in the water.

There’s a ripple in the water at the end of the dock, pushing and pulling like there are leagues of endless depth beneath his feet. Which doesn’t make sense, there can’t be more than eight inches of water at this point so near to the shore.

And if Carlos has learned anything over the last few weeks, it’s that if something doesn’t make sense, it’s probably Fae related, so he takes a closer look. He lowers himself down on his belly, head hanging over the dock.

His eyes search, roaming the edges of the impossibly deep pool of water hidden under the shallows of the lake until, ah. There it is, a single strand of white hot lightning that flashes across the pool, unraveling more and more strands until he can see the warding that covers a circle only a few feet wide.

He can hear Paul clambering onto the dock behind him, swearing as his makes the same mistake Carlos had. Carlos pushes back to his feet as Paul approaches, hands brushing down his jeans in a fruitless attempt to brush off the dirt and wood splinters he’s accumulated.

“So,” Paul says, finally meeting Carlos at the end of the dock, “Who’s turn is it to check it out?”

“Yours.” Carlos answers firmly, “I’m not jumping down there.”

Paul laughs, “You are so lucky I’m an adrenaline junky, jackass.” He steps up to the end of the dock, “You can’t get out of stepping into all of these godforsaken holes.”

Carlos shrugs, he hasn’t had to go into any of the Faerie entrances yet, either Grace or Paul taking that step for each of the entrances they’d found so far.

“I can fucking try.” He responds to thin air.

Paul’s already over the edge of the dock.

——

“Once a possible entrance is located, one of us will need to scout it out and see which territory it leads us too.” Lonna says, gesturing at the Fae portion of her audience.

Carlos frowns, hand shoved in his pocket where no one can see him fiddling with the necklace he’d stolen from Ms. Mason’s crime scene. “Why can’t we just check out any entrances we find? Won’t it take twice the time if we have to call one of you every time?”

He looks to Grace, hoping for backup with his interjection but she just shakes her head at him.

“We can’t enter Fae realms without an escort, someone would need to claim us.”

“They could claim us before we go, so we can enter anywhere, right?” Carlos asks.

Lonna interrupts before Grace can answer, “Our protections are specific, we can protect you at one time and place only.”

Carlos groans, once again he’s talking like a fucking child around fae who have probably thought every option through in the time it takes him to string together a single sentence.

“Now, if we had access to a bloodstone this wouldn’t be an issue, but seeing as there are only a few left in the world that aren’t locked in the Usurper’s chambers, and the one that we did have was taken, we don’t have that luxury.” Lonna continues, once again moving forwards before Carlos can even process.

Carlos’ hand moves idly over the pendant stashed in his pocket, thumbing nervously at the clasps. It takes only a few more unheard sentences from Lonna before he realizes his own stupidity.

“Hey, I…” Carlos pulls the pendant out of his pocket, letting it dangle in the air in front of him, “ I think I have the solution to that problem.”

——-

The full moon hanging over the lake seems impossibly bright, leading Carlos to wonder if it might be weird if he wore sunglasses as night, on what might be the most important mission he’s ever been on.

On a second thought, he decides that it might be in his best interest to throw out his current definition of weird, as literally nothing has gone the way he expected since that fucking _fateful_ night in the bar bathroom.

He grabs the sunglasses as he exits his car, TK slamming the passenger door shut at nearly the same moment he closes his.

“Ready?” Carlos asks, glancing at TK over the hood, sunglasses perched firmly on his nose.

“Fuck no.” TK responds, as casually as they’d discussed dinner last night. To be fair, their dinner discussion hadn’t been that casual (it’s hard to be casual sitting in the same house as your not-boyfriend’s comatose dad).

Carlos holds out his hand as he rounds the side of the car, it’s an offer of comfort as much as its a plea for support.

TK takes it, knocks their shoulders together as gentle as can be.

“If we get out of this, I think I’d like to ask you out on a real date.” He says, a soft smile meant only for Carlos playing on his lips.

Carlos huffs a small laugh, “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

Any other time, and his heart would have soared out of his chest, but Carlos is ninety nine percent sure that he’d left his heart (and his common sense) in Martie’s diner, the night they made the plan.

——

“We go on the first of the month.” Lonna orders, “Which gives us three days for you to find this entrance and tear down the wardings.”

Carlos finds himself interrupting the war room atmosphere once again, “I’m sorry, tear down the wardings?”

“You can’t expect the Unseelie court to leave its tunnels unprotected do you?”

“No, no,” Carlos backtracks, “How do we tear down a warding? And wouldn’t they, like, notice?”

“The Court controls thousands upon thousands of entrances and exits, I would be shocked if they notice one set of warding being torn.” Martie cuts in, giving Carlos a sympathetic smile.

“That doesn’t explain how we actually do the tearing though.”

Judd snorts, leaning back against the cracked linoleum booth and stretching out his arms. The green of his skin clashes horridly with the red booth, “That’s where I come in.”

Grace takes pity on Carlos, once again, and leans into his side to explain.

“Judd here’s a Tunnel Troll,” She says, with more love and pride in her voice than Carlos had ever heard someone use while saying the word troll, “He can break us a temporary hole in that warding, let the rest of the Fairfolk in our group through.”

———

The dock is littered in empty takeaway coffee cups, crushed energy drink cans, and a single pack of Camel lites, though to Judd’s credit there are only two cigarettes missing from the pack. Judd had been working at the dock for the majority of the last 48 hours, endlessly tunneling them a pathway to hell.

“How’s it going down there?” TK calls over the edge of the dock.

“Almost through brother.” Comes Judd’s muffled reply, and Carlos takes a peak over the edge of the dock, as if he knew what to look for to check if Judd was telling the truth.

Turns out he didn’t need to know what to look for, the lightning that had previously ran rampant across the pool of water is black with soot, moving slower and slower as Judd wrangles a tendril with his bare hands, forcing it out of it’s free flowing pattern and shoving it to the side of the pool.

With one final grunt, Judd seems to hit the wards breaking point, the lightning shriveling in on itself and dispersing as if turned to ash, now floating forlornly on the water.

Judd turns his head up, one hand blocking the moons light from his eyes. “Call the others, it’s high time we get this shit show on the road.”

Carlos pulls his phone out of his pocket, opening up the group chat that somebody (he thinks it was Mateo) had named ‘Operation Kiler Queen’, and sends out the call to battle.

“Hey, and uh,” Judd calls from the shallow water down below, “Can one of y’all get rid of those smokes before Grace shows up?”

———

“Okay, that gets us into the Seelie realm, but how do we find the Queen?” Carlos asks, “Or the throne, or whatever we’re looking for.”

“All roads lead to Rome!” Mateo nearly yells.

Lonna rolls her eyes, though her smile is still in place, “The courtrooms are the center of Faerie, it’s hard not to make your way there.”

All they have to do is not get killed on the way there.

Easy as pie, if pie wanted to fucking kill you.

———-

The atmosphere is charged, static before a lightning storm, as if even the universe itself is trying to warn them off. They stand nearly still surrounded by roiling waters, no words or motivation or last minute weapons checks to be done. The lake seems to want them gone.

Part of Carlos wants to listen, wants to sprint back to his car and drive home, bury his head under the blankets and never look at the Fairie world again.

Carlos doesn’t really like—or listen to the universe though, so he stands on the dock with just a gun in his hand, seemingly in two worlds at once as they prepare for the descent into hell.

A warm hand snakes its way into Carlos free hand, and he glances over at TK. He tries to smile, tries to give some sign that he’s ready or confident or even sure of being there. It doesn’t work.

TK leans his head into Carlos’ shoulder, whispers, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else.” Carlos replies, finding it to be true only as he speaks it aloud.

There’s a roll of thunder somewhere in the distance, and it shakes everyone back to life. Lonna steps up to the edge of the docks, a broadsword strapped to her back and her wife’s hand twined with hers.

“You kids ready?” She calls. She doesn’t wait for an answer, just steps off the docks and disappears without a splash.

The rest of the group falls into line, one by one falling off the dock and into nothingness, no idea of what lays ahead and no way of letting anyone else know what they find.

Carlos is the second to last to step into the void, only Judd behind him to bring up the rear.

He pauses for a moment, watching the waters that TK had just vanished into without a trace, takes a deep breath.

Carlos jumps.

It feels like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say thank for those who have stuck with this story even though I've been horrid with updates. Good news is i will finish this story if it kills me, bad news is I work in healthcare and my job comes first (especially with covid). Im hoping to have the next chapter up in the next two weeks (its already started i pinky promise) and then only like 2 or so chapters left on this story!!!!
> 
> As always, I love hearing from you guys, so please let me know what you think!!!


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